Elisabeth's POV
The grandfather clock in the hallway hammered out each second with relentless precision. Every tick felt like a countdown to my execution as I sat rigidly in the leather chair outside my father's office. My palms were slick with sweat, and I wiped them against my dress repeatedly.
Malcolm Kendrick had never laid a hand on me in anger.
His words, however, could slice through bone and leave scars that never healed.
"Miss Elisabeth, your father will see you now."
The gravelly voice of his assistant made me jump. I glanced up at the man's stone-cold expression and forced my lips into what I hoped resembled a smile. My legs felt like lead as I rose from the chair and walked toward the heavy oak door.
I stepped into the study and immediately felt the familiar weight of dread settle over my shoulders.
"What have I always told you is the foundation of our family's reputation, Elisabeth?"
