Even as she cursed me out, she kept sneaking glances at my father’s face, afraid he might get upset. Well, she had her reasons, as my father’s wealth was her long-term meal ticket.
My aunt joined in the chorus of insults, but halfway through, her voice shifted into something more pointed. “Girls are always outsiders in the end. Mirabelle’s barely gotten into college and she’s already thinking of running off. Surely, once she’s married, she won’t even be part of this family anymore. Manfred, I think you should remarry and have a son of your own flesh and blood—”
But the sound of glass shattering cut her off as my father had slammed his cup down hard enough to crack it.
“Enough! Don’t say another word! Mirabelle is my flesh and blood. I will never marry again!”
He turned to me then, his tone softening so quickly it was almost jarring. There was even a trace of pleading in his eyes.
“Mirabelle, did I do something wrong? Tell me.”
I pointed at the now-empty pond beside us and answered, “Because the silver arowana died.”