Lucien

He was on the phone talking to Schwartz when his children entered. His eldest, the twins, along with the tall boy with the shock of unruly black hair and deep brown eyes, lanky Philippe, the gardener’s son, trailing behind them. The teen looked nervous but Ria stepped forward, her hand in her brother’s, chin jutting out.

“Pappa, we need to talk to you.’ he scowled at them.

“I am busy, he snapped and returned to his call, swivelling his seat away from them. he was dimly aware that the children continued to wait but he was too preoccupied.

‘Come back later.’ he snapped and then as Ria hesitated, he...