Chapter 8 - Entering the Lion’s Den
I parked the car right in front of the grand double doors of the mansion, cutting the engine with deliberate finality.
“Stay in the car, Meredith. Chloe, stay right beside me,” I instructed, stepping out onto the cobblestone driveway.
The spring air felt crisp and sharp, contrasting sharply with the burning fury boiling inside my chest.
I walked up the marble steps and pushed the heavy oak front door open without even bothering to knock.
The cavernous foyer smelled of old polish, expensive leather, and the faint, familiar scent of my father’s imported cigars.
“Harrison? What is the meaning of this intrusion? The recital started ten minutes ago!” a booming voice echoed from the study.
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My father, Richard Vance, stepped out into the hallway wearing a tailored three-piece suit with a gold pocket watch chain.
His silver hair was combed back meticulously, and his pale blue eyes radiated cold, autocratic displeasure.
