Gustavo crossed his arms, burying his chin in his chest. He refused to speak.

He pouted, his lower lip trembling like a leaf in the wind.

Gloria knew standard reasoning wouldn't work. He was five, and he had been raised by wolves (or rather, by an indulgent, neglectful mother).

She needed psychological warfare.

She leaned in close. She lowered her voice to a spooky, raspy whisper.

"Do you know what happens to little boys who don't say sorry?"

Gustavo looked at her sideways. Curiosity warred with stubbornness.

The staff leaned in. The room was silent. Even the dust motes seemed to pause.

"The Silence Witch comes," Gloria improvised.

Gustavo's eyes widened. "The witch?"

"Yes," Gloria nodded gravely. "She crawls out of the fireplace at night. She has long, cold fingers."

She walked her fingers up his arm. Gustavo shivered.

"And she sews their lips shut with invisible thread."

Gloria mimed sewing her own lips shut, pulling an invisible needle through her skin.

Gustavo gasped. His hands flew up to cover his mouth.

"And then," Gloria continued, her voice dropping lower, "when they want to ask for ice cream... no sound comes out. Just silence."

Gustavo's eyes filled with genuine, primal fear.

On the stairs, Jones suppressed a snort of laughter. He covered his mouth to hide his grin. He realized she was manipulating the kid, lying through her teeth, but god, it was effective.

"I don't want the witch!" Gustavo cried, his voice muffled by his pudgy hands.

"Then use your voice for good," Gloria said sternly. "Before she takes it."

She pointed a manicured finger at Jones.

"Apologize to your brother. Loudly. So the Witch knows you're using your voice."

Gustavo scrambled off the stool. He ran over to the bottom of the stairs.

He looked up at Jones.

"Sorry, Jones!" he yelled. He screamed it. "I'm sorry! Don't let her take my mouth!"

Jones looked uncomfortable. He shifted his weight. "It's fine, whatever."

"It is not fine," Gloria corrected him from across the room.

She walked over to them.

"You deserve respect," she told Jones. She looked him in the eye. "Don't accept 'whatever'."

Jones felt a strange lump in his throat. No one had ever said that to him. Not his dad. Definitely not Gloria.

Gustavo ran back to Gloria and hugged her leg, burying his face in her skirt for protection.

"Did she go away?" Gustavo mumbled into the fabric.

Gloria patted his head absently. "For now."

She looked at Jones.

Jones turned away quickly, hiding his expression. "I'm going to my room."

He bolted up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Gloria watched him go. One step forward.

Dinner was served at seven sharp.

The dining room was cavernous, lit by a crystal chandelier that cost more than Gloria's life insurance policy. The table could seat twenty.

Gloria sat at one end.

Gustavo sat to her right. He was eating his peas with suspicious enthusiasm, occasionally glancing at the fireplace to make sure the Witch wasn't coming.

Jones's chair was empty.

Gloria frowned. "Mrs. Higgins?"

The nanny stepped out of the shadows. "Yes, Madam?"

"Where is Jones?"

"Master Jones is in his room. He said he is not hungry," Higgins said.

Gloria knew he was hungry. He was a teenager. They were always hungry.

She stood up. "Gustavo, come with me."

Gustavo dropped his fork. "Is it the Witch?"

"No. We are going on a rescue mission," Gloria said.

They marched upstairs. Gloria stopped in front of Jones's door. It was plastered with "Keep Out" signs.

She knocked.

No answer.

She opened the door.

The room was dark, illuminated only by the flicker of a large monitor. Jones was sitting in a gaming chair, headphones on, blasting away at virtual enemies.

He saw them in his peripheral vision and pulled the headset down around his neck.

"What?" he snapped. "I said I'm not hungry."

Gloria pushed Gustavo forward gently.

"We are going to have a family dinner. You are family," she said.

Jones scowled. "I'm busy."

Gloria ignored him. "Gustavo, ask your brother to come."

Gustavo remembered the Witch. He remembered the invisible thread.

"Please come, Jones," Gustavo said dutifully.

Jones hesitated. He looked at the paused game.

Gloria decided to push it. She wanted to bridge the gap.

"And give him a hug," she added.

Jones recoiled as if she had slapped him. "No way."

"Hug!" Gustavo yelled. He was an agent of chaos. He launched himself at Jones.

Gustavo wrapped his sticky arms around Jones's waist.

Jones flinched violently.

His body went rigid. His hands hovered in the air, trembling. He looked terrified.

Gloria saw the flinch. It wasn't just annoyance. It was a trauma response.

A cold realization washed over her. The old Gloria hadn't just ignored him. She must have hit him. Or allowed him to be hit. Or made physical contact something to be feared.

Guilt, sharp and acrid, flooded her chest.

She had pushed too hard.

"Okay, that's enough," she said quickly.

She reached out and pulled Gustavo off gently. "Release the hostage."

Gustavo let go.

Jones took a step back, breathing hard. He adjusted his shirt, trying to regain his composure.

"Just dinner, Jones," Gloria said, softening her voice to a whisper. "No hugs required. I promise."

Jones looked at her. He saw a glimmer of genuine regret in her eyes. It confused him.

He nodded slowly. "Fine. I'll come down."

"Go wash your hands, Jones," Gloria said.

As Jones went into the bathroom, Gloria cornered Gustavo in the hallway.

She knelt down for a secret strategy meeting.

"Gustavo, look at me," she said.

He looked at her, eyes wide.

"Do you like toys?" she asked.

"Yes!" he nodded vigorously.

"Do you know who buys the best toys?"

"Daddy?" he guessed.

"Daddy is old," Gloria dismissed with a wave of her hand. "Daddy buys stocks and bonds. Boring stuff."

She pointed toward the bathroom door where Jones was.

"Jones is the future," she whispered. "He is going to be a Tech Mogul."

She used the big words deliberately.

"Like Iron Man?" Gustavo asked.

"Exactly. He will have more money than Iron Man."

Gustavo's jaw dropped.

"If you are nice to him," Gloria continued, weaving her web, "he will buy you islands."

"Islands?"

"Yes. Private islands. Made of candy. And Lego."

"Whoa," Gustavo breathed.

"But only if you stop kicking him," Gloria warned. "Iron Man doesn't buy islands for kids who kick him."

Gustavo nodded solemnly. He was now motivated by the purest force in the Sterling family: greed.

Gloria smiled. It was a dark, twisted lesson, but it was a language they understood.

"Let's go."

They went downstairs. Jones was already at the table, looking sullen.

Gustavo climbed into his chair.

He looked at Jones. He didn't see his brother anymore. He saw a walking ATM. He saw Iron Man.

Gustavo grabbed his bread basket. He pushed it across the table toward Jones.

"For you, Iron Man," Gustavo whispered reverently.

Jones was taking a sip of water. He choked.

He coughed, sputtering water onto his plate. "What?"

"Eat the bread," Gustavo insisted. "It's for the islands."

Jones looked at Gloria, bewildered. "What did you tell him?"

Gloria hid her smile behind a linen napkin. "I just explained the family hierarchy."

She looked down at her empty plate. Her mind drifted to her finances.

She needed five million dollars. Fast.

She looked at her outfit. Vintage Versace. Fashion.

In the real world, she was a fashion editor. Here, Gloria had a closet full of couture but zero taste.

She could start a brand. A real brand. Not the vanity projects the old Gloria did.

But she needed capital.

She looked at the antique silverware. Solid silver, she thought. No. Arthur would notice.

The front door opened.

A heavy gust of wind blew through the hall.

Arthur was back. Unannounced.

Gloria froze. Dinner just got complicated.