"Well," I said, letting my voice carry a cool edge, "isn't this lively."
Grant stiffened like I'd caught him doing something filthy. He hurriedly set his bowl down, eyes darting between me and Lincy. "Riley? What are you doing here?"
I lifted the food container in my hand like proof of good intentions. "Dad, I heard you were busy, so I went out of my way to bring you something to eat."
Lincy's face twisted instantly. She looked me up and down, then spat, "Copycat."
I walked past her like she was a piece of furniture and placed my container on Grant's table. I set it down neatly, right beside the dishes Lincy had brought.
Then I leaned in slightly and asked, sweet as sugar, "So, Dad… whose cooking are you going to eat?"
Grant's face tightened, and for a second I saw the real struggle in him. Lincy was the child he'd pampered for years, the one he always protected. I was the daughter he couldn't afford to offend anymore, not with everything hanging by a thread.
