Anabella Clayton's POV:
The car's engine let out a low, guttural roar as we left the massive iron gates of the Sullivan Mansion behind.
Through the rearview mirror, I saw Bowden standing there like a stone statue carved from resentment, while Analia busied herself soothing a frantic Dexter, who was busy kicking at the gates.
I pulled my gaze away and leaned back into the seat, feeling a faint sense of total exhaustion.
"How did the talk with my father go?" I asked, breaking the silence of the cabin.
Edmund's long fingers were draped casually over the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "To be honest, Anabella, if you hadn't returned to England, I wouldn't have set foot in Mr. Sullivan's study at all. He's a stubborn egoist, even at a time like this."
"What did he say?"
