Albert Slater supposed that anybody walking in to the Roth penthouse at that moment would have mistaken the scene for a sweet little domestic moment between a grandfather and his grandchild. To be fair it really was easy to misread. The soft hum of his voice, and his granddaughter chipping in from time to time, replying quietly to questions was deceptive. Instead of being seated on one of the couches. Albert was in the kitchen, sitting at the counter while his granddaughter moved around preparing things for the evening meal.
They talked about her sisters, the company, his health, all pleasant things. But with each passing moment, Albert could see her grow more and more tense. He was not there to talk about all of those things, and Haley knew it.
