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Father chews, swallows, and takes a sip of his red wine before answering. “I know the parts that are important.”

I glance over at my mother, who’s keeping her gaze on her fucking fishbowl-sized glass of red wine.

“You’re being deliberately vague, father,” I say.

He reaches for another potato. “Am I?”

“Tell me what you know.”

A faint smile touches his mouth. “People tend to listen more carefully when they don’t have all the answers.”

One of the staff replaces mother’s empty bread plate before disappearing as silently as he’d arrived.

I set my knife and fork on the linen tablecloth, anger simmering in my veins. “I’m listening. What did you tell him?”

“I told him enough.”

“Christ…” I grit. “Stop playing games.”

Father meets my eyes across the table. "I answered the questions he'd been asking."

My stomach tightens another notch. “I don’t understand.”

“No.” He dabs the corner of his mouth with his napkin. “You rarely do until it’s too late. That’s why you needed longer to learn, rather than think you were ready to go head-to-head with me.”

A muscle jumps in my jaw. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means Lorcan deserved honesty.”

“And where is he now?”

Father leans back in his chair. “On his way to Black Heath Stud.”

The dinner table blurs, and my hand fists the linen napkin. “Why?”

He runs the top of his finger around the rim of his wineglass. “To avenge his mother.”

My hands go numb, and my blood runs cold.

The Tallons.

Lorcan.

My aunt.

“He wanted to know who destroyed her life.”

“You sent him to Black Heath Stud to cause trouble?” My chair scrapes across the floor as I lean forward. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

“I didn’t send him anywhere.”

“You just said⁠—”

“I gave him the truth.” He watches me, almost smug. “What he chooses to do with that information is entirely his own decision.”

“You’re talking in riddles.”

“I don’t believe I am.”