CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Stephan couldn’t shake off the feeling of unease as he walked into his childhood home the next morning. The recognisable scene of the well-decorated walkway and the aroma of freshly made coffee should have brought him warmth, but today it only increased his nervousness. He made his way to the dining area where his father was seat at the head of the table patiently expecting him.

With caution, Stephan said, "Good morning, Father," and sat down across from him.

His father looked up from his newspaper, his face unreadable. “Good morning, Stephan,” he replied curtly.

The room was dead silent, and Stephan braced himself for whatever discussion was going to take place. He was familiar enough with his father to know that although he was a quiet guy, his words were powerful when he did speak.

It seemed like a lifetime, but at last, Mr. Rodriguez folded his newspaper and put it neatly next to his plate. He met Stephan's stare, and there was a decidedly steely edge to it. “Stephan,” he