Phoebe's POV
Harold noticed the dark cloud hanging over my expression but didn't pry. Instead, he grabbed another smoothie, stuck a straw in it, and brought it to my lips.
"Don't let it get to you," he said. "Here, taste this. It's a new blend from that smoothie place—made just how you like it."
I could barely muster a smile, but his thoughtfulness cracked through my mood just enough.
I accepted the drink and took a sip. "Mmm, it's perfect. Really sweet."
Once he saw me brighten up, Harold finally ventured, "Your father really treats you like garbage, doesn't he?"
I just gave a noncommittal shrug. Harold had already dug into my past anyway—no point in hiding anything now.
I laid out the twisted saga of the Hale family drama in a few blunt sentences.
Harold's eyes filled with pity as he listened. "Are you absolutely certain he's your biological father?"
