CALIL HUNT

“How is she?” I asked my father as he stepped out of the bedroom, his face weary.

“Your mother is better. It was just a faint. With her fragile health, that was enough to cause it.”

I took a deep breath. And felt guilty.

“And Amara?” he asked.

“I managed to get her to leave.”

He placed a hand on my shoulder and looked me straight in the eye.

“I think we need to talk, son.”

“Yes, we do,” I agreed.

My father led me to his study. Once there, he motioned for me to ...