My father’s lips moved, but nothing came out.
That was when I walked in and shut the door behind me.
The music continued for half a second before someone in the living room switched it off.
Vanessa’s smile vanished.
Craig turned around slowly.
I looked at the box, at my father’s trembling hands, at my mother’s tear-streaked face, and then back at my sister.
“Interesting,” I said quietly. “Tell me again whose house this is.”
Part 2
Craig was the first to regain himself, or at least he tried to.
He pulled his shoulders back and gave me the same arrogant look he used at family dinners whenever he wanted everyone to think he understood business, law, money, and the world better than anyone else present.
“Ethan,” he said, forcing out a laugh. “You showed up at a bad time.”
“No,” I replied. “Looks like I showed up exactly on time.”
Vanessa set her wineglass down with too much force. It clicked against the marble counter.
“Don’t start,” she said. “You have no idea what’s been going on.”
I looked at my mother. Her eyes were swollen, and there was a bruise-colored shadow around her wrist. It was not dark purple, not fresh enough to make the situation undeniable at a glance, but enough to tell me someone had held her too tightly.
My father tried to pull himself upright.
“Ethan,” he said, voice faint. “We didn’t want trouble.”
Craig gave a sharp snort. “Trouble? The trouble is two old people sitting on a mansion they can’t maintain while their daughter’s family struggles.”
“You struggle?” I asked.
