Jack noticed Greta had returned. That sweet, innocent smile plastered across her face could've fooled anyone—she looked like a walking advertisement for purity. But Jack, having heard what he had, saw right through the act.
The moment he stepped back into the room, Vincent beamed and gestured toward Greta warmly.
"Jack, this is your cousin Greta. She was only three when you left. Do you remember her at all?"
Jack gave a slight nod and extended his hand. Greta hesitated, clearly reluctant, but under Vincent's watchful eyes, she forced herself to respond. Their hands barely touched before she quickly pulled away.
Neither Vincent nor Norman realized there was already a rift between the younger generation.
Vincent let out a soft sigh and said, "Emily, I deeply regret the mistakes I made in the past. If your father were here, I would offer him a formal apology myself."
Emily replied, "Sadly, my father isn't here. He's been traveling the world for some time now."
Vincent stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Your dad was free spirited, a man far ahead of his time. I didn't understand him twenty years ago, but I see how narrow my own thinking was now. I was nowhere near his level."
The usual authority in his voice was gone. It was rare for a man like Vincent, so used to being revered, to speak so humbly and admit his shortcomings. It showed how impressive Emily's father must have been.
As the sky began to dim, Norman suggested, "Dad, how about I take Quintis and his family back home? They've had a long day."
Vincent nodded. "Go ahead. Drive safely."
Due to his condition, Vincent wouldn't be attending the family dinner that evening.
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