Richard’s office was his inner sanctum. Dark wood, leather-bound books that looked like they had never been opened, and a massive mahogany desk that served as a throne. He sat behind it, steepling his fingers, the picture of corporate intimidation. My mother stood near the window, looking pale and useless.
He waited until I was standing in the middle of the expensive Persian rug before he spoke.
“That stunt you pulled tonight,” he began, his voice deceptively calm, “was the last one. Do you understand me? The absolute last.”
I crossed my arms. “Was it the ripped jeans or the factual statement about your relationship status that you found most offensive?”
“Do not get smart with me,” he snapped, his composure cracking for a second. “I have been patient. I have been understanding. But my patience is at an end. As long as you are living under my roof, you will follow my rules.”
“And what rules are those?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. “The same ones you follow? Rule number one: see a family, destroy it, then buy a bigger house?”
His face tightened. “Rule number one,” he said, leaning forward, “is that you will show respect. You will be civil. You will not disrupt this household or embarrass your mother again.”
“She embarrassed herself just fine without my help.”
“That’s it,” he said, standing up. “You’re grounded. For one month. No going out, except for school. No friends over. And I’m confiscating this.” He strode around the desk and held out his hand. “Your phone. And your laptop. Now.”
My blood ran cold. The phone was my only link to Dad.
“You can’t do that,” I whispered.
“I can and I will. You need to learn that actions have consequences, Tala.”
I looked at my mother, a desperate, final appeal. “Mom?”
She wouldn’t meet my eyes. She just stared out the window at her perfect, manicured lawn. “He’s right, Tala,” she murmured. “This has to stop. We’re a family now.”
The word ‘family’ coming from her lips was the final betrayal. With a hand that trembled with rage, I pulled my phone from my pocket and slapped it onto his outstretched palm. I went back to my room, retrieved my laptop, and returned, placing it on his desk with a thud.
I was a prisoner. Now, I was in solitary confinement.
“Good,” Richard said, satisfied. “You can have them back when you’ve learned to be a part of this family.”
I turned to leave, my shoulders stiff with unshed tears and unspoken fury. As I reached the door, I heard them arguing, their voices low and tense.
“I told you this would be a problem, Claire,” Richard hissed.
And my mother’s reply stopped me in my tracks, my hand frozen on the doorknob.
“We had no choice!” she whispered fiercely. “You know what he would have done if they stayed! You know!”
I slipped out of the office, my heart pounding. What would who have done? What would my father have done? The question was a terrifying new crack in the foundation of my hatred.