I know better than to embroil myself in confrontations I don’t understand, so my first instinct is to pull myself back into the room and lock the door until whatever enraged Harrison Riscoff passes. But that’s the old Whitney, whose first instinct is to curl into a ball and protect herself. Maybe this is the wrong time to take a stand, but something that feels a lot like confidence keeps my spine ramrod straight as I face Harrison.

“I don’t have a clue what went wrong in your privileged world, but I do recognize a grown man throwing a temper tantrum when I see it.”

He drops the bag he’s holding and stalks toward me.

Shit. Maybe this was a bad idea.

“I hope you’re happy that you’re destroying this family one generation at a time. I don’t know what you did to make my grandfather think you’re holier-than-thou, but I guarantee it won’t last. My brother is only with you because he wasn’t supposed to be. Now that he’s got the green light to bang your skank ass, he won’t stay with you long. The appeal is gone. You’re not a challenge anymore. Don’t get used to being lady of the manor, because you’ll be outside the gates looking in again before you know it.” Harrison’s glare sharpens. “I predict it won’t even take a week. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

He turns and marches back to his bags, and I can’t help but wonder what exactly I missed this morning.

Is Harrison really leaving in protest?

Lincoln comes up the stairs as his brother drags his expensive luggage down the hall, and I have to wonder if it’s the first time he’s carried his own bags in his entire life.

“What? You checking to make sure I didn’t take anything I wasn’t supposed to? Go ahead, search my bags. See if I fucking care.” Harrison spits the words like venom at his brother.

“I don’t give a damn what you took. I only hope you lose the attitude.”

Harrison glances at me. “I didn’t want to be under the same roof as your whore anyway. Commodore thinks I can’t make it on my own? He’ll regret this.”

Lincoln steps out of his brother’s way as he heads for the stairs. “I’ll text you the funeral plans. I’m sure Commodore wouldn’t want you to be excluded from those.”

“I don’t give a damn what Commodore wants anymore. I’m not missing my mother’s funeral, and he can go fuck himself if he thinks differently.”

As Harrison drags his suitcases down the stairs, Lincoln stands with his back toward me, watching the bags thump from one step to the next.

As soon as he turns around, I rush toward him. “What the hell happened? Did Commodore kick him out?”

“Until further notice. He told Harrison it was time he prove he’s worthy of the family name.”

“That’s a little harsh.” I’m shocked I’m speaking up for Harrison, considering all the hate he’s spewed at me, but he did just lose his mother yesterday.