The painting had started as a portrait of a young woman, but strokes of yellow and green wound their way around her, snakes curving around her upper arm and into her wavy hair. Her eyes held a sadness, but she wasn’t afraid. The snakes weren’t her enemies; they were a part of her.

“Your work is remarkable, always has been.” My dad’s rumbling voice filled the room, and I glanced back in greeting.

Considering his occupation, he could seem surprisingly ordinary. He looked like any other middle-aged man, well dressed and fit. He was attractive but otherwise average to the unsophisticated eye. I was always torn on my feelings toward him. I respected that he’d taken down the men who killed my brother, but if it hadn’t been for his choices in life, my brother would have likely still been alive. Because of that, I’d never been able to get close to him. However, the older I got, the more leeway I gave him because I realized that my genes had come directly from him, and I was no better.

“Thanks, Dad. You need something?” I asked, setting down my brush. I cut right to the chase because I wasn’t interested in company. My mood had remained decidedly dark since the day before.

“Not really. I wanted to thank you for indulging your mother with the party. You know how much she loves her parties.”

“Yeah, I know, even if she is meddling where she has no business,” I griped, eyes on my fidgeting hands.

“Try to remember there are two sides to every story.”

Is that what you’d say if I invited your enemies over for tea? I desperately wanted to ask but kept my lips tightly sealed. He knew I wanted nothing to do with Nico, yet he still supported my mother in her plotting. “I’m an adult, Dad. I don’t need either of you trying to arrange happy reunions on my behalf.” The words were clipped as I glared at my father.

He pursed his lips and lifted his chin. “I’m afraid it’s a little late. When your mother told me she’d run into Nico, I suggested she invite him for dinner.”

“Just cancel. Things come up all the time. Tell him we have an illness in the family.”

Dad raised his brows, then cast his gaze toward the hallway.

“Tonight? He’s here now?” I spat incredulously.

He gave a tight, apologetic smile.

I couldn’t believe this was happening. Surely, my mom could tell after our painfully awkward lunch that pushing the issue wouldn’t be a good idea. Surely, she had more common sense than that.

Yet judging from my father’s grimace, the answer was no. No, she didn’t.

“No problem,” I said, turning back to my canvas, ears hot with anger. “You guys enjoy your dinner.”

“Sofia,” Dad warned coolly.

“I’m not a kid anymore. You can’t make me do something I don’t want to do.”

“You may be an adult, but that doesn’t excuse you from being rude. Members of this family do not hide in their rooms when we have a guest.” His tone was absolute. He was not going to budge on the subject.