slowly toward his daughter. He was a man in his early sixties, polished and controlled, the kind of man who knew the price of every room he entered. Until that moment, he had looked embarrassed. Now he looked furious.
“Vanessa. Tell me you did not push that woman.”
Vanessa’s face tightened. “Dad, please don’t start.”
“Tell me.”
She looked around at the guests, then at Daniel, waiting for him to rescue her.
Daniel swallowed and looked at the ground.
That was all Richard needed.
He walked to a nearby table, picked up a linen napkin, and wiped his hands with slow deliberation.
“I warned you,” he said to Daniel.
Daniel looked up. “Mr. Caldwell—”
“No. I warned you both. I told you that humiliation is not humor. I told you that cruelty in private becomes cruelty in public. You both smiled and told me I was old-fashioned.”
Vanessa said
