Robert Reed called Sienna on a Tuesday afternoon, two weeks after the disastrous dinner that had ended with strained smiles, untouched dessert, and silence heavy enough to choke on.
She was at her desk when her phone buzzed. Her father's name flashed across the screen.
For a second, she only stared at it.
Since the dinner, neither of them had said much. Her mother had called twice, both times pretending everything was normal, carefully avoiding any direct mention of Alessandro or the argument that had split the evening open. Her father had sent one brief text three days later—We should talk—and when she had not answered, he had let the silence stretch.
Until now.
Sienna took a slow breath and answered. "Hi, Dad."
His voice came through rougher than she expected, as if he had been rehearsing this call and still hadn't found the right way to begin.
"We need to talk," he said. "Without Alessandro. Just you and me."
