"Matthew, tell me—are you hiding something from me?" Jonathan cut straight to the chase.
Looking at the brooding Jonathan, Matthew, his former driver, spoke with a touch of emotion: "Sir, it's probably been over ten years since you last asked to meet me like this, right?"
Fine snow drifted outside the café, dressing the early winter in white. The day was bitterly cold; pedestrians on the street wore heavy coats and thick scarves, chins tucked deep inside. Matthew stared absentmindedly out the window, lost in thought over Jonathan's question…
"Tell me the truth. Is there something you're keeping from me?" Jonathan ignored his old subordinate's reminiscing, direct as ever.
Matthew froze. He hadn't expected Jonathan to press so relentlessly.
He stammered, his face visibly uneasy: "Sir, why are you suddenly asking—"
"Never mind how I'm asking. Whatever I ask, you tell me everything you know." Jonathan's tone grew stern.
