pte

ia's

ograph digging into my chest. The photograph was still clutched against my chest. I blinked, my eyes swollen a

a maid. "Dinner is ready. Your father req

preferred I was seen, not heard, not acknowledged. Whoever this was, they

y head throbbed from crying, and my chest ached, but I forced myself up. I couldn't afford

. I clutched the edges of the sink and studied my reflection: red-rimmed green eyes, disheveled honey-blonde hair that looked like i

to smooth it out. It wasn't perfect, but it was presentable enoug

ed against my knees, casual but not sloppy. No jewelry, no makeup. I wasn't about to dress up for someone I didn

ed to myself. My voice sounded hollo

low timbre of my father's voice punctuated by the clink of silverware against china. I was late

p, were a warning wrapped in disdain. I ignored the chill that prickled at my spine and slid into the nearest chair, as far away from th

d cold. "Sit here." he pointed at the seat beside the s

o the seat beside him. Only when I was comfortably seated and my

s, assessing me like I was a prize or a liability. He was handsome in a catalog-model way. Sharp jawline, slicked-back dark hai

an from the café, whose

in the face

te rising in my throat. I nodded stiffly at the guest and turned back to my plate. I didn't miss the way his smile f

however, wa

s voice dripping with that artificial warmth he reserved for h

fingers clenching the fo

th ancient money and expectations carved into granite. Another fami

brass. "We actually met once, years ago

didn't touch my eyes.

quickly. My father's fingers drummed against the table, a slow, del

as was just telling me about his plans to expand his

of my fork sinking in too deeply. "I'm

a coiled snake. Thomas let out another practiced chuck

liced through the meat wit

resuscitate the conversation, asking Thomas about his family, his career, his potentia

uriosity morphing into something more insist

n became sharper, each question a needle pushing under my skin. It was obvious what this was, a se

e evening couldn't get

on my

pressing through the thin fabric of my dress. My breat

r's eyes flashed with anger at my uncouth behaviour, his face was filled with restrai

I said, my vo

father hissed

re stiff, but I turn

a!" he

ble floor seemed to stretch endlessly before me. My flip-flops sl

get back

My chest was tight again, every breath I took was sha

, trying to breathe. Trying to make sense o

ations, his threats, they were chains, tightening until I couldn't breathe.

ough me. The photograph of my mother sat on my nightstand, her smile

pered, my voice breaking. "I c

d stayed there, drowning in the weight of the ev