Midnight Report
788 Words
The Carrington estate was unnervingly silent at this hour — the kind of quiet that made even footsteps feel like secrets.
Isadora stepped into her father’s private study without knocking. She didn’t need to. The door had been left ajar, and he was waiting.
Gregory Carrington sat in his signature leather chair by the fireplace, a crystal glass of something amber in hand. The room smelled faintly of sandalwood and old paper — dignified, demanding.
“Why are you up so late?” she said dryly, tossing her coat onto the back of the nearby settee.
Gregory smiled faintly without looking up. “Midnight felt like the perfect time for a business review.”
She folded her arms. “Naturally. What better hour to interrupt my session of trash TV and some hot tea with Celeste?”
“You and Celeste still watch that dating show where everyone pretends to be emotionally evolved?”
“Religiously,” she deadpanned.
“If Celeste’s tea was involved then you should be thanking me for rescuing you.”
Isadora chuckled and replied, “It’s not THAT bad.”
He gestured to the empty chair opposite him. “Ah well you are a good friend, Dora. I believe the last time I walked properly it was before I had her tea, chamomile, I believe.”
“Oh come on dad!”, Isadora exclaimed with a leaked laughter. She sat down next to her father and asked him, “What do you want to know?”
Gregory looked her in the eye and with a serious tone said, “Progress. How’s it going with the Blackheart heir?”
Isadora’s tone shifted, professional now. “We’re reaching some middle ground. Tentative at best. He’s more hands-on than I expected — annoyingly involved, but not incompetent.”
Gregory raised a brow. “That almost sounded like praise.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Hm.” He swirled the drink, thoughtful. “Still… Sebastian seems to live up to his reputation. Smart, controlled, good under pressure. Possibly even—” he gave her a sidelong glance, “a worthy partner for business.”
She sat up straighter, tone sharp. “He might just be playing the long game. Manipulating us, waiting for us to soften so he can strike and claim everything. That wouldn’t be a first for the Blackhearts.”
Gregory chuckled, unbothered. “You sound like me thirty years ago. Don’t judge the man by the sins of his forefathers. Maybe he has a better heart.”
She saw an opportunity and laid it down once again,“No, he’s a Blackheart.”
Gregory was caught unexpectedly and he dropped a healthy laughter. She knew she got the right audience for her houmor.
Instead, back in a professional tone, “Well, I’m not lowering my guard. I’ll get the job done.”
“I don’t doubt it,” he said, eyes softening. “But you’re young, Dora. You don’t have to wear your armor twenty-four-seven. Let yourself breathe once in a while.”
“I was breathing. With Celeste. About to order some junk food. Until I got summoned here.”
Gregory smiled into his glass. “Forgive me. I’m old-fashioned. I prefer updates in person — and it gives me an excuse to see you.”
She understood and didn’t argue.
A beat passed.
“How’s your health?” she asked, shifting gears with a practiced fluidity that came from years of responsibility.
“Oh, you know. I’m still here, nothing to worry about.”
“When’s your next doctor’s appointment?”
He blinked. “That’s… a good question.”
“Seriously?” She reached for her phone and speed-dialed.
His assistant picked up almost instantly.
“Hi, Beatrice. When’s my father’s next check-up?”
A brief pause.
“Day after tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” She ended the call and added the appointment to her calendar with swift efficiency. “Honestly, you’d forget your own lungs if they weren’t attached.”
Gregory leaned back, smiling to himself. “Good thing I have you, then.”
She didn’t smile, but the corners of her mouth twitched — the closest thing to warmth she allowed herself in moments like these.
“Anything else?” she asked, standing.
“No. Just… thank you, Dora.”
She paused at the door. “You can thank me by not scheduling future ‘catch-ups’ at the stroke of midnight.”
“I’ll consider it.”
“Please go to bed and get some sleep.”
She said before leaving.
She returned to Celeste’s, where the comfort of trash TV and junk food with some chocolates that her friend had saved greeted her with a warm hug.
- Writer
