Crawford Manor loomed against the evening sky, its limestone facade glowing amber in the setting sun. Michael paused at the iron gates, memories washing over him as security verified his identity. How many times had he driven through these gates in his previous life, always rushing, always focused on the next business battle? Never appreciating the history these walls contained."Mr. Crawford," the guard nodded respectfully, raising the gate. "Your father is expecting you."The long, tree-lined driveway curved through manicured gardens. Michael drove slowly, taking in details he'd overlooked for years. The massive oak where he'd built a treehouse at twelve. The stone bench where his mother had read to him on summer afternoons before her illness. The small reflecting pool where he and Eric had once sailed homemade boats in rare moments of brotherly peace.Henderson, the family butler who had served the Crawfords for three decades, greeted Michael at the grand entrance. His lined face r

The gift presentation had concluded, but the evening's entertainment was far from over. As family members returned to mingling with drinks in hand, Michael noticed Eric moving purposefully through the crowd. His brother's expression carried the satisfied look of someone whose trap was about to spring."Quite a modest offering from the COO," Cousin William remarked as he passed Michael, not quite hiding his smirk. "Though I suppose recent... corporate complications might necessitate budgeting."Similar comments followed as Michael made his way toward the bar. Subtle jabs, barely disguised as conversation. Eric had clearly been working the family network all evening, sowing seeds of doubt about Michael's standing."Whiskey, neat," Michael requested from the bartender. As he waited, Aunt Patricia approached, her expensive perfume announcing her arrival before she spoke."Michael, darling," she said, air-kissing near his cheek. "Such a... thoughtful little gift you brought. Very crafty."