“Good morning, Father,” I say in my most polite tone. “Your presence is required tonight at Putnam manor.” My mouth pulls into a grimace and my shoulders slump. “Is it really necessary?” I ask, letting it slip out before I can stop it. He is silent for several seconds, either out of shock that I would even slightly question him or in anger and he wants me to squirm in punishment. Either way, I’m on edge when his icy voice rumbles through the phone. “If I say so, then it is. Be there, accompanied by your fiancée at seven o’clock sharp,” he says, ending the phone call immediately after.
