Francis reads the letter
Anger flushed my cheeks as I tossed the letter onto the granite countertop. It slid across the surface and stopped right next to the cutting board.
Francis stopped chopping and wiped his hands on a towel, sensing the sudden shift in my mood. He picked up the pages and began to read silently.
I watched his expression change from confusion to disbelief as he processed the audacity of my father’s demand.