He turned slowly toward Vanessa.
The warmth disappeared from his expression.
“Is that right?” Mercer asked softly.
His voice was quiet, but something about it made the surrounding silence deepen.
Vanessa misunderstood completely.
“Oh, she’s used to it, Daniel. Emma knows her place in the hierarchy.”
Mercer looked at my sister.
Then at my parents.
Finally, he met my eyes.
There was a brief moment of silent acknowledgment.
He reached into the breast pocket of his tuxedo.
“I think, Vanessa,” Mercer said, his voice dropping an octave, “it is you who has forgotten your place.”
Vanessa blinked.
For the first time that evening, uncertainty crossed her face.
Mercer continued.
“That is how you speak about your sister?”
His tone was no longer socially pleasant.
It carried the cold authority of someone who had already reached a conclusion.
My mother laughed nervously.
“Oh, Mr. Mercer, please excuse her. Siblings will be siblings! Emma has always been our… difficult child. A bit of a black sheep. We try to include her, out of charity.”
