"Clara, why haven't you answered my calls in months?" my father's voice boomed through the phone. "You think because you're married now, you can neglect your family?"
I countered, "Speaking of neglect, who's been neglecting family? If you have nothing to say I would hang up now.
My father's tone turned stern. "Clara, come home quickly. We need to talk."
I stood firm. "Whatever you want to say, say it now. I'm not coming."
My father's voice rose. "Clara, please! Be peaceful for once and come home."
I sneered and hung up the phone.
*******
In the Walter mansion
As I entered the Walter mansion, my stomach churned with unease. Even my baby seemed to sense the tension.
My father stood before me, his walking stick in hand, his face cold and unyielding.
My step-sister and mother clung to each other, their hands intertwined in a gesture that felt more like a calculated display than genuine affection.
At the sight of me, my father's expression softened, and he reached for my hands.
"Clara, my child, you—"
"What do you want?"
"Ckara, my child, your father loves you a lot. You'll keep your father safe when you need to, won't you?"