"Your father-" He holds a pink, paper file up then tosses it onto the table between them. "Was apparently one nasty assassin. Your family's history is rich, we're talking more expensive than the new Prada bag that's coming out this spring." Setting himself against a wall, he folds his arms over his chest and offers her a rather amused smile, humored. "By the looks of your own details, you're following similar in his path. Now, what I don't know about your life is whether or not your second father, Ethan is it? Whether or not he knows about the big thing you have going on. Let's say he does know. What would happen if police took him in to question and he got arrested and trialed for withholding information? Or better yet, let's pretend he doesn't know. What would happen if he were to...find out?"
Little emotion showed on Charlotte's face beyond the cold wall she kept up. She tried for a relaxed position, with gloved fingers laced over a crossed knee, though it was too tense to be convincing. Who exactly was this man, and how did he know about the Nightingale's connection to her and her family? Her eyes drifted to the file in his hand, then back to him when he brought up Ethan. For just a brief second, her grip tightened.
"He is aware of our dark secrets," she explained lowly. She'd have rather at least kept that secret, but had the impression that he knew even this much even if he didn't act it. "I'm not sure of how he had learned about it, but I know it was horrible. He was pulled into our world." Her words fell short. Even she didn't know the full story, both her parents refusing to talk about it, but she could always see the deep regret on Frederick's face whenever it was brought up.
"I don't intend to let that happen again," Charlotte added. "I won't reveal my methods to you, but things are monitored. I'll protect him with everything I have, even my life."
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