Lily is waiting for me when I return home. She shouldn’t be. She should be resting. She should be silent. Instead, she’s pacing the living room, clutching her injured arm, eyes red and wild.
“Dad,” she snaps the moment she sees me, “did you see what she did? She attacked me! She...”
“Enough.”
The word cracks through the room like a whip. Lily freezes. I step closer, studying her. The bruise on her arm. The tremble in her fingers. The fear she’s trying to hide.
Pathetic.
“You provoked her,” I say calmly. “After I told you not to.”
“She...she embarrassed me! In front of everyone!”
“And now you’re hurt.” I tilt my head. “Actions. Consequences.”
Her mouth opens, then closes. She looks like a child again, small, frightened, desperate for approval. I sigh. “I told you to work the Connor
