ASHER
Hugh Spellman has never looked smugger as he swirls a snifter of brandy in his hand with one leg crossed over the other in our living room. By his side, Liam sits, donning a white, unbranded tee-shirt and jean pants. Like his father, he smirks unabashedly. Mila is the only family member who sits with a little compassion coloring her cheeks.
Father draws in a deep breath and glances across the room at my brothers and I. The fire in his eyes have almost winked out. Our stocks have never crashed so low. Our reputation has never been this muddy. The negative outpouring of hate from the people that once worshipped the ground we walked on has been unbelievable.