Scarlett's POVThe second I saw Owen stand up from his chair and smile at me, everything clicked.Dad wasn't drunk. He was never drunk.The text was a setup, and I had walked straight into it.I looked at my father. He was watching me with that same composed, satisfied expression from before, like he'd just made a smart move in a card game."You look pretty good for someone who's had too much to drink," I said.He ignored that. "Sit down, Scarlett. Owen came a long way tonight.""I'm sure he did." I shifted my bag onto my shoulder. "But I don't need to be here for that. You want to have dinner with someone, have dinner with them. I'm leaving."I turned for the door."Sit down."The sharpness in his voice stopped me, not because I was afraid of it, but because I knew that tone. It was the one that came right before he said something designed to cut."You walk out that door," he said, "and I'll start wondering out loud to your mother why her daughter can't be bothered to spend five minu
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