Lucian
“Mara will be the death of you, Lucian,” Martha spat.
My father slammed his hand against the table, the sound echoing like a gunshot through the breakfast lounge. For the first time in years, he lost his temper—and it wasn’t at me.
“Don’t speak to my son—or his wife—again, Martha,” he said, his voice shaking with restrained rage. “You’ve already cost us more than you know.”
He stood, no longer just a patriarch, but a man who’d had enough.
“I didn’t realize how deep the rift between us ran until Mara spoke to me yesterday. I was proud of her—proud that someone in this family still had the guts to speak the truth, no matter how uncomfortable or dangerous it might be. Maybe if you had that kind of honesty, Martha, this home wouldn’t be such a damned mess.”
He swept a glance aroun
