Christy's POV
The Lancaster mansion felt colder than usual this evening. The golden light from the chandelier did nothing to soften the tension simmering in the air, instead, it illuminated every sharp glare and every bitter twist of a mouth.
I stood there, surrounded by people I was supposed to call family, but the distance between us felt wider than the sea that had once separated me from them.
The moment I stepped into the living room, I could feel the shift. My mother's teacup clinked sharply against the saucer while my father's newspaper dropped slightly, his brows drawing together in a deep frown.
And Mira, my ever-so-sweet cousin with her venomous smile was already waiting like a vulture circling for blood.
"Is it true?" my father asked first. His tone was calm and that made my heart race faster.
"Is it true that you intend to go back to that Black boy?" he asked with an authoritative tone.
I inhaled slowly, steadying myself before answering.
