Stacy was with my dad when I arrived at his penthouse. The elevator took me up to the second floor, and I stepped out, heading into the living room where I knew they'd be. And sure enough, they were, but in the kitchen closest to next door, seated at the dining table.
Annoyance crossed my face the second my father crossed gazes with me. "Dad, why are you here? I am only here to speak to Stacy."
"Why wouldn't I be here?" He rose to his feet, seeming angry. "You made your sister fly eight hours home because of what? Did you realize she had an exam to finish over there?"
"I don't care! For what she's done, that's a little price to pay," I barked, turning my attention to Stacy, who'd paled. "Do you know what she'd done?"
"What did she do?" he demanded.
I stormed towards Stacy, the anger inside of me boiling. "Will you tell him, or do you need me to?"
