By the water fountain outside Howard’s mansion, Roland stood still, staring into the Howard’s eyes.
Howard seemed upset. Roland could tell by the look on his face, but that was only a fraction of the knife that pierced into his soul when Howard brought up talk about his family.
“Cruel love runs in my family,” Howard muttered. He hissed and steadied his gaze on Roland. “You’re right son. Perhaps the status of my house deprives me of the confidence to speak about love. But I love my family the only way I know how to.”
Roland’s eyes tensed, still watching.
“You don’t like me,” Howard said. “You must perceive me to be bad because you’ve been listening to my daughter. But have you heard my own side of the story?”
“I don’t need to,” Roland answered. “Your actions already show what kind o
