Zechariah frowned when he mentioned her fear. At first, he had figured it was a pretense. (He had not yet outright dismissed that, much as he wanted to.) He sipped slowly, but took another long drag of drink.

“You think he has been violent?” Zechariah clarified. “Document all known incidents thoroughly, as soon as they happen. Times, dates, what was said, what was done, impact the incidents had.”

The glass was already empty, and Zechariah eyed the bottom of it as though it were a personal offense.

“Your father is grieving,” he continued neutrally. “As are you and your mother.”

That was more of a suggestion than a fact. Zechariah poured another round for himself.

“How does your father regard you, Mr. Carrington?”

Why did he suspect ‘not well’?