Dad shakes his head. “We’ll finish dinner first and then have a conversation.”
I squeeze the fork in my hand tighter, the metal digging into my palm.
Anger and nerves are mixing together inside of me. I have no idea what my dad is playing at right now, but it’s doing nothing to help.
Declan makes polite conversation with my dad as I cut into the chicken sitting on my plate. I pop a few bites, but it all feels like cement going down.
I push peas around on my plate and attempt to make it look like I'm actually eating.
“Alice, is there a reason you’re not eating your dinner?” Mom asks, giving me a questioning look.
“I’m not all that hungry,” I say.
“Alice, if you’re going to act like this, we might as well just get this conversation over with.” Dad wipes his mouth and throws his napkin down on the table.
I want to fire back at him.How am I acting? You’re the one that’s being weird about what conversation we’re supposedly having.
“Can you tell me what it is we need to discuss? You’re the one that told us to come over tonight.”
I fold my hands in my lap and turn to give my father my full attention.
Instead of diving into it, he walks into the study and comes back with a manila folder in his hand.
“Care to explain this?”
He slide the thick envelope over to me and I undo the clasp. Pulling out the papers, my jaw drops in shock.
“What is this?”
“Proof that your marriage is a sham.”
“What?” Declan leans over my shoulder to look at the stack of papers.
“Do you really think we wouldn’t do our due diligence?” Dad asks. I hate that my eyes match his at this very moment.
They are full of disappointment. It’s not the first time I’ve seen him look at me like this, but it stings, nonetheless.
“Where did you get these?”
A copy of our marriage certificate. Pictures from our social media—Declan with another woman, me with another man. Pictures from my dating profile that I had set up earlier this year.
“You were set to inherit a large sum of money, Alice. Imagine my surprise when you show up and happen to be married. It was questionable at best. You would be coming into your trust under false pretenses.”
“What do you mean false pretenses? We got married.”
Dad scoffs. “In Vegas. When you were drunk, based on the photos.”
Of course he has pictures from when we were there. Sure, we were drinking, but we don’t look trashed in any of the photos.
“Is this even a real relationship?” Dad asks. “Are you even in love? Were you even dating?”
Ice slides down my throat, settling in my stomach. I can’t believe what I’m looking at. My eyes flit up to stare at my parents. At the two people who are supposed to love me unconditionally.
It’s like I don’t even know them.
“Is this really how much you hate me? That you’re willing to void my trust to try and keep me under your thumb?”
Mom bristles at the comment. “We certainly don’t hate you, Alice.”
