Father

Edgar Nightingale was a tall man. The years had turned his hair gray at the temples, and his severe gaze and penetrating brown eyes swept the room almost disdainfully. His bushy eyebrows adorned a constant frown, with thin lips and a straight nose. There were slight wrinkles at the corners of his eyes from years of forcing them to read, always refusing to use his prescription. He was a man with a few extra pounds but without chubby cheeks. He had been part of the government since Anika could remember, always attending campaigns, conferences, and debates. He was an important and influential man.

The gala was at Peter's father's mansion, a renowned senator and a partner of Mikhail's. In a way, his mansion was considered neutral ground, at least that's what Klaus had told her. Anika was expected at the gala as the governor's daughter, but coming face to face with her father as soon as she set foot in the place made her stomach churn.

"My daughter," the man whispered when he made eye con