Page 37 of Dream On, Liar

I had absolutely no recollection of when it had been taken.

Still, the space felt less like an office and more like a timeline.

My father's timeline.

A carefully curated history of the people, teams, and moments that had mattered enough to earn a place on the wall.

“Sit down.” My father finally spoke, settling back into his chair as he looked at me from across the desk.

“Can we just...not do this?” I sighed, dragging a hand down my ponytail. “We can just sit in silence for a minute. I'll calm down, and then I'll go back.”

For a second, I thought he might actually agree.

Instead, he leaned back in his chair and tilted his head slightly. “No.”

I closed my eyes.

Of course not.

“Let's talk about what's wrong,” he said. “I thought your day was going well.”

My eyes snapped open as I stared at him. Slowly, a feeling of suspicion began creeping its way into my irritation. “Are you getting minute-by-minute reports?”

The question seemed to catch him off guard, only for a second. His expression shifted almost imperceptibly before settling again, and suddenly I knew.

My eyes widened. “Are you fucking serious!?”

“Language.” His eyes narrowed, before he hesitated. Then, apparently deciding there was no believable way out of it, nodded once.

I let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “From who?”

My father sighed. “Maeve.”

“No, I’m being serious.” I folded my arms across my chest. “Who is reporting back to you?”

“Nobody is reporting back to me.”

“Right. And I'm sure everyone just voluntarily forms a queue outside your office every hour.”

A look passed over his face that suggested I was being difficult. I wish I could say it deterred me, instead it only encouraged me.

“Is it Faroq?” I asked, a hint of dismay laced in my tone. “Because if it's Faroq, I'm going to—”

“It's not Faroq.”

My shoulders dropped, a small relief coursing through me. “Then who?”

My father rubbed a hand across his jaw. “I told you. It’s not someone. It’s just the players—”

I blinked. “Players?”

“Yes.”

The answer shouldn't have surprised me. For some reason, it still did. “Why?”

He looked genuinely confused by the question. “Because you're new, and they’re…overprotective.”

This wasn’t news to me. Faroq had said the same thing earlier, but still something felt off.