There were very few people in the world who could make Darryl Pharrell feel like a scolded child. Nathaniel Marcello was one of them.
"My daughter bankrupted five families Darryl."
"I know–"
"And I found out from a news station."
"Nathaniel, listen–"
"A. News. Station."
Darryl was quiet.
"You knew, the bodyguards knew, Melanie knew, John knew. Everyone in that house knew." Nathaniel's voice was dangerously calm. "And not one person thought to pick up a phone and call me."
"I was going to tell you…"
"When Darryl? When it made the international news?"
"I'm sorry, I just didn't want you to overreact,"
"Do I sound like I'm overreacting?"
"…Maybe, a little?"
"Count yourself lucky you didn't mention Melanie's name," Nathaniel's tone had gone down.
"I know," Darryl breathed, thinking he was about to end the call.
"Pack your bags Darryl, you're coming over to California tomorrow,"
