"Go save lives, little sis," Queen said, her voice laced with the reluctant fondness she always reserved for Abby — the one person who could call her out and still get a hug afterward.
"I will."
And with that, Abby ended the call. Queen let out a soft sigh and tossed her phone onto the table. She was still digesting everything Abby had said when there was a sudden knock at the door. Her back straightened instinctively.
Before she could say come in, the door opened.
And in stepped her father.
Queen shot up to her feet. Her father never dropped by. If Richard Numero wanted an audience with his daughter, he summoned it.
"Daddy?" she asked. "Is everything all right?"
Richard returned her embrace. He kissed her temple, before gently leading her toward the semi-circle of sofas that framed the lounge area of her glossy, glass-walled office.
"Is there a reason your mother wants to murder me because of you?" he asked, completely deadpan as he lowered himself into one of the sofas.
