"Well, who do we have here, huh?" Norman Stravkos started, his mood falsely cheery as he glanced at his watch. "It's nice of you to finally grace us with your presence, Abel. Thought we weren't worthy enough."
"I'm sorry, Father. We left the house late and got stuck in traffic for a few hours," I lied, loathing my instant shift in behavior whenever I was around him. I didn't feel like a grown man, but a kid again. And not just any kid — that eager-to-please child who wouldn't stop trying even though it was crystal clear that he could never do enough. That his efforts could never be appreciated enough. That he could never be enough. He didn't comment on my lie, whether he believed it all or not, but turned his eyes to Solana, his eyes glistening at her dress.
"You look dashing, dearest Lana. Great to see you in anything other than that dreadful black veil and dress you had on at the funeral," he said, chuckling.
