MOORE ESTATE
Lisa walked into the lounge, her heels clicking floor as she approached her father.
Her father, Malcolm Moore, sat in his usual chair near the fireplace, his posture relaxed as he cradled a cup of tea in his hand. His face remained unreadable, his gaze fixed on the swirling liquid as though lost in thought. He seemed to have forgotten about the newspaper in front of him.
Lisa studied him for a moment before speaking.
“Good evening, Dad," she greeted.
Malcolm barely looked up. “Lisa.”
Something about his tone set her on edge. It was curt, indifferent—lacking even the usual forced politeness he maintained with her. Lisa took a seat across from him, crossing her legs and leaning forward slightly.
"Why are you here?" Malcolm asked without looking at her.
Lisa felt ann
