Silas’s vague reply hung in the air, a masterclass in deflection. Leaning against the Rolls-Royce, his attention was captured not by Ingrid’s frantic energy, but by the sight through the restaurant window: Elara, her face alight with a laugh, a beacon of warmth in his cold, calculated world.
Ingrid, on the other end, paused, processing his non-answer before drawing a sharp, emotional breath. "You stubborn, impossible man! I told you for years to get a proper medical consultation, but you were too proud! There's no shame in a medical condition, but you let your damned male ego get in the way of everything!"
Her voice softened into a frantic, hopeful urgency. "Well, now that you're… functional… you'd better not waste any time. A child with Elara, Silas, do you hear me? You're pushing forty
