The heavy steel doors slid open.
My parents stepped out first. My father’s necktie was visibly strangling him, and my mother’s eyes darted frantically around the cavernous space. Chloe clung desperately to Julian’s arm. Her makeup was applied with a heavy hand, her expression frozen in a mask of fragile bravado.
The moment their eyes landed on me, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with a legendary four-star general, within the walls of a fortress I owned, they stopped breathing.
“Mr. and Mrs. Vance,” Sterling rumbled, his voice echoing off the glass. “Welcome. You must be suffocating under the weight of your own pride. You’ve raised an absolute titan.”
My father’s mouth opened, but only a dry rasp emerged.
“Hello, family,” I said, my voice smooth, cold, and entirely my own. “I trust the drive over was comfortable? Come in. We have so much to discuss.”
The dining table was a battlefield disguised in fine linen.
