"Keep that face of yours looking immaculate."
"Keep your attire looking distinguished."
"Let everyone see that a Saint Claude is sitting there."
"That will be enough."
William cowered in the corner of his seat, his body trembling.
This fear wasn't just born from a panic about the unfamiliar world of politics, but also from an instinctive repulsion to shouldering responsibility.
"I won't do it."
William shook his head.
"This is insane. What if I screw it up? What if reporters ask me questions? I'll be exposed. I'll become a disgrace to the family."
"I want to go back to Milan, or even Paris. I don't want to go to Harrisburg."
"You're already a disgrace to the family."
Evelyn looked at him, the last shred of patience in her eyes vanishing.
She took a document out of her briefcase and threw it on William's lap.
"This is the review form for your next quarterly trust fund payment," Evelyn said coldly.
"And the statements for your Amex black card."
