~Clarissa's POV~ The sheer, raw power in my father’s voice....that dangerous, stripped-down baritone...was something I hadn't heard since I was a scared eight-year-old and he’d caught a bully cornering me in the park. It was the sound of all his civility finally cracking, the noise of a man pushed past his last nerve.The silence, after that cold, final command, was heavier than the brownstone itself. I was still caught on the threshold...one foot on the cold, unforgiving granite of the step and the other poised to cross the worn oak floor. The air, already thick with venom and shock, snapped with a new, dangerous electrical charge. Margaret’s face, usually a mask of effortless control, was a masterpiece of conflicting emotions: fury, raw and unmasked, battling a desperate, deeply buried fear. She was losing control, and it terrified her. She’d always reigned supreme in this house, her will the only law that mattered, yet here was Richard, my father, publicly challenging her, effect
Last Updated : 2025-10-24 Read more