"You're the sky over the Gilbert family. The pillar of this house. Nothing can happen to you."
"If you got hurt, how would I face your mother?"
My voice cracked. Trembling. Thick with "fatherly love."
The relatives froze for a few seconds, then the tide turned instantly.
"Lucas, that was way too careless!"
"Exactly—look what you did to your little dad! Look how badly you burned him!"
"This kid, so thoughtless. Good thing Peter shielded you."
Moral high ground: seized.
Lucas's face cycled through green and white. His eyes landed on the bloody water seeping through my back, the blisters already rising, and for the first time, that viciousness in his gaze cracked.
Internally, I was thrilled.
If I don't get at least fifty million in emotional distress compensation, I'll haunt the Gilbert family as a ghost.
I collapsed weakly into a chair. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Lucas pulling out his phone. He gritted his teeth and fired off a message. The screen's reflection let me make out a few words:
"Plan B. Tonight."