Scarlett's POV
As soon as I hung up the phone after talking to my father, I sat back in my chair, staring at the blank wall in front of me.
My father had agreed to the family dinner at the Sinclairs’ home without so much as a single protest. No yelling, no cursing, not even the typical grumbling about Benjamin Sinclair being the devil incarnate.
Just a simple, calm, “Fine. Tell me the time, and I’ll be there.”
It felt… wrong.
He never made things this easy, especially not when it involved Benjamin Sinclair. If anything, I had prepared myself for an argument—one that would probably end in him slamming the phone down on me while muttering something about disowning me. But instead, he had been unusually compliant, and that compliance set every nerve in my body on edge.
It wasn’t like my
