The Meeting

Vincent

I knocked on the heavy oak door of my father’s office and entered. He was sitting behind his leather seat facing his large window, which looked out into the large front yard.

“Take a seat,” he said without turning.

I sat down on the visitors' sit. I was nervous. Yes, I have a good rapport with my dad. But when he’s mad, he’s mad. He knows not who you are. When he’s ticked off, he rains down hell on the culprit.

“I know you’ve thought it through, Vincent. I know you looked at the pros and cons of this adventure you’ve set out on, because I believe this is what you’re doing,” he said with his deep icy voice as he rotated his seat to face me. He wasn’t angry, I could tell from his face. He just wanted to talk.

“You know your brother has been in love with her. I could tell the first time I saw them dancing on the dance floor. I know you knew that too. You are aware that this will bring a dangerous feud between your brother, yourself, and the rest of your family. Your mum has d