Scarlett waited until late in the evening to approach her father. She had spent the entire day thinking about how to confront him without sounding completely out of her mind. Memories of her past life still clung to her—images of bloodshed, betrayal, and the realization that her father had known far more about their family’s entanglement in the underworld than he had ever let on.
Now that she was back at 18, she needed answers. And she needed to be prepared.
The study door was slightly ajar, the soft glow of the fireplace spilling into the hallway. Scarlett hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. Her father was sitting in his usual armchair, a book in hand and his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He looked up as she entered, his brow furrowing.
“Scarlett, it’s late,” he
