The tension in the air followed us like a shadow as we drove away from what remained of the Hawthorne family legacy. I stared out the window at the passing cityscape, trying to process the execution I had just witnessed. The casual efficiency with which Harrison Ashworth had ordered two men killed left me feeling hollow.
"Are you alright?" Isabelle's voice was soft, her hand finding mine in the darkness.
I turned to face her, searching those captivating eyes for any hint of the coldness her father had displayed. Instead, I found only concern.
"Your father just had two people killed right in front of us," I whispered, keeping my voice low enough that the driver couldn't hear. "And everyone's acting like we just left a business dinner."
She squeezed my hand. "That's the world I grew up in, Liam. The Ashworth name carries responsibilities and consequences that most people never see."
