The next morning arrived gray and cold, matching my mood perfectly. I sat at the kitchen table, mechanically eating porridge that tasted like ash while Father bustled around with the same manic energy he'd displayed the night before. Mother moved through her morning routine with mechanical precision, but I caught her glancing at me when she thought I wasn't looking.
They were both waiting for me to ask questions they didn't want to answer.
"Father," I said finally, setting down my spoon with deliberate care. "I think we need to discuss your bargain."
The bustling stopped immediately. Father's shoulders went rigid, and Mother's hands stilled on the teacup she'd been washing.
"Catherine—" Father began.
"No," I interrupted, surprised by the steadiness in my own voice. "No more careful wo
