Meredith's pov

The young girl shuts the door behind Grant and me, leaving us in the presence of my father and Margo, who had been working here since I was young.

She beamed when she noticed me, her features lighting. "Meredith dear.’

She looked a bit peeved that she could not come over to me and had to remain positioned by father to nurse his wounds.

I looked at his wounds closely, smiling as I took a further step.

’Did Aiden do that to you?" I pointed at his nose and jaw. He looked like he had gotten punched relentlessly.

Father pushed Margo’s hand away from his lips. She had been dabbing a cloth on the split flesh.

’What do you think?’ He questioned, lounging back in his chair casually as though his face did not pain him. I didn’t miss the slight wince.

I grinned. I guess you deserve it, father. You are, after all, trying to ruin his life."

His grin widened. "I haven't tasted my own copper blood in years.” He licked his split lip. "I've missed the tang.”

I shook my head and walked over to the huge bookshelf. My fingers skim the backs and stopped on the huge book he used to read to me when I was younger.

He still had it.

I took it from the shelf, opening it to that page I knew was important. Grant leans over me protectively.

I smiled warmly at him, reassuring him with my eyes that my father would not hurt me.

He wasn't convinced.

’Grant, son. It's been a while. Sorry I hadn't seen you at first."

'Don't act like you like my presence here Sergio,’ Grant grunted, leaning against the shelf.

Father's eyes narrowed. "How has work been, still scrapping for money?"

stiffen. Father always blamed Grant for me ending the agreement marriage with the Muralo's. He didn't understand that love was far greater than

before he

But now.

fingers over her face. "She wouldn't have

back to

but Grant stops me. I looked up into his concerned eyes and lift my hand to brush my fingers over his stubble

with a smile and the silence of

reluctantly

motioned for

him reluctantly and nods. When she walks passed me she

few years older than me and actually grew up here. Her mom had been working for my grandparents and then my father before

I were friends

good to see you too

over my shoulder. "I would like to speak to my daughter in

family. Whatever we speak

Father's eyes narrowed.

it was stubbornness. We

muttered, his

on the desk, right before him while

a number on

bad about it, I

this?’ I whispered, keeping my eyes focused on him

fingers reaching out for the

paints on his face and I feel relieved. The man still had some humanity and wasn't all

I forget?’ His watery smile made

is the last family photo we took with mom. She had been awfully sick here but she was the one who prodded for

I think. Those days were always a huge blur. It was

died. She

had been happy to leave, but we were not

us, she suffered through the pain for years.

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