Page 63 of Dishonored

“Unfortunately. I am very sorry. You should know the officials are involved, and are on their way to you right now.”

Of course, they were.

Aria expected no different. The officials would be there in record time, no doubt, to question her about everything and anything they could while going through her home. While the Warden of the prison thought to treat Aria with kindness and respect on the phone, as though she were a victim, the officials most certainly would not be as nice.

Her father was a criminal to them, even if he was a dead one. And she was nothing more than his daughter which meant she was the same kind of scum on the bottom of their shoes.

None of that mattered much to her.

Caesar worked fast, though.

She was most surprised about that, really. It had only taken him a few days from the moment she had the photos of them delivered to his father for him to decide to strike back—as she figured he would do, he struck back against her where he thought it would hurt her the most with killing her father. The only opening Aria had given him to see a bit of care she afforded another person was her father, after all.

She had news for him.

He was just a puppet.

He moved at her will.

“Thank you for informing me, and on a timely manner,” Aria said to the man on the phone.

“I understand this is upsetting, and I didn’t want you to hear it through the officials when they showed up at your home. Seems you’re a well-known face in my prison, and many of the guards have only nice things to say about you.”

Sure.

Because she padded their pockets.

Her father had needed protection, after all, and she had to use what she had to get it to him while he served out his sentence. The thing was—Jac De Rose didn’t realize the person he needed protection from the most was the woman he had handed off to a man he should have known would only hurt her time and time again.

Business, he’d said.

Can’t dishonor your name, he’d explained.

Keep your reputation intact, he’d demanded.

Yes, well, look at him now.

Six feet under was not a warm place to rest.

Aria said a final goodbye to the prison warden, and hung up the phone. She took another minute to gather her thoughts, and steel her emotions. Everything was about to change—in more ways than one, and not just for the people at the table.

For her, life was going to get a little more difficult.

Oh, well.

Win some, lose some.

Aria moved back to the dining room, and stood in the entryway separating the kitchen from the space for the amount of time it took for someone else to notice she hadn’t come back in yet. Slowly, one by one, each person at the table quieted as they looked to her for some sort of explanation about her suddenly reserved demeanor.

She took one more breath.

One more second.

“My father was killed today,” she said to the room, “someone will need to inform my husband, and ask that he come home. I don’t think I should do it.”

More like … she didn’t want to.

The words were no sooner out of her mouth and the room erupted.