Family: Out of Business

Bluffed

Claire's pov

Snapping me out of my trip down memory lane, grounding me back to reality, Alfred and one of the maids came rushing in.

"Oh mio Dio, non il vaso Ming (Oh my God, not the Ming vase)!" the maid exclaimed, making the sign of the cross as she gasped in horror at the sight before her.

Alfred's mouth hung open in shock for a few brief moments before he pulled himself together, like the professional superhero assistant he was born to be. He shouted something to the maid in Italian that I didn't understand and she immediately scurried away. I'm presuming he told her what to retrieve to clean up the mess I made.

When he turned his attention to me, he had such an extreme look of pity and disbelief on his face, I gulped in fear knowing I was done for. My short time on this earth will quickly come to an end as soon as my father finds out what I did. The entire throng of Marvel and DC superheroes combined couldn't save me from the wrath of the new Dimerra family patriarch. To put it simply and eloquently, my ass is grass. My father's gonna kill me.

My eyes widened seeing sheer panic replace Alfred's normally poised and composed demeanor. He was frightened for me. I could see the wheels spinning in his head as he tried to determine his best course of action, but surely this couldn't be the first murder crime scene he's ever had to cleanse. His trepidation, however, has me extremely concerned that this might be the messiest one yet. After my father gets his hands on me, it's gonna be a real blood bath.

"Lorenzo!" we heard him call from the entryway.

Speak of the devil. My father's home. The three of us exchanged apprehensive glances. Dread overtook fear as we each simultaneously reached the same conclusion- the end is nigh. My young pathetic life, rife with unfulfilled potential, was about to come crashing to an end, just like Dad's prized vase. Huh, irony at its finest. God really does have a sense of humor.

Fulfilling his duty, Alfred admirably cloaked his nervousness as he composed himself and responded politely and respectfully to my father, "Coming sir, I'll be right there."

"No need."

My heart stopped hearing my father's voice so near. I could literally feel the temperature of the air drop about twenty degrees as his persona instantly darkened upon seeing the carnage scattered at his feet. The travesty of his beloved antique succumbing to such a cruel fate clearly devastated the man as he was stunned into silence.

My father always got real quiet when he was very mad and right now you could have heard a pin drop. He was livid. I can't remember the last time I did something to make him this upset. Seeing my soccer ball amidst the wreckage he turned to me with a look of white hot fury plastered on his face. I've never seen the veins on his neck protrude so noticeably, so vulgarly. I immediately backed away in fear. My survival instincts kicking in, telling me to increase the distance between myself and this very clear credible threat to my safety and wellbeing, standing before me.

"Claire Francesca Fredericks Dimerra, you better have a damn good explanation for this," he growled, in a barely audible, yet clearly threatening tone.

I gulped, continuing to slowly back away, increasing the space between me and my executioner. My father was furious. Beyond furious, actually. I don't think Webster could even define the amount of enmity and rage that was consuming my typically mild-mannered next of kin.

"I'm sorry, Father, I didn't mean to..."

He silenced me with a wave of his hand. The maid had returned and my father barked something to her and Lorenzo in Italian so forcefully, I cringed in fear and he wasn't even addressing me.