I froze at the top of the stairs, watching as Alaric pinned my father against the wall. Though I couldn't hear the words exchanged, my father's face drained of color—first white with fear, then mottled red with humiliation.
Alaric released him just as abruptly as he'd grabbed him, smoothing down the lapels of my father's jacket with mocking precision. I crept back down a few steps, straining to hear.
"...only reason you still draw breath," Alaric was saying, his voice low but cutting. "Isabella's continued affection for you—misplaced as it may be—is the only thing keeping you from ruin. Remember that."
My father straightened his collar, attempting to regain some dignity. "You have no right to threaten me in my own home. I am still a Baron, and—"
"And I am a Duke who holds your debts," Alaric cut him off. "Who knows your secrets. Who has the ear of the King. Would you like to test which of us the Crown favors, Baron?"
