I closed the folder gently, trying to still my hands, and excused myself from the dining table. My father didn’t look up or acknowledge me as I left the room. His indifference stung, but I pushed it aside. I couldn’t deal with everything right now.
In my room, I dropped the folder onto my desk, not bothering to look at it again. Changing into something comfortable, I sat on the edge of my bed, my mind racing. Tomorrow… I had to meet him again. Luca Caruso.
I pulled the blanket over my legs and lay back on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. The first meeting hadn’t gone well at all. He barely looked at me, and when he did, it felt like he was looking straight through me. I couldn’t shake the thought of how little he cared—how dismissive he was. Would the second meeting be any differe
