Alexander’s POV
She freezes, her hand still on the door handle. Slowly, she turns, her eyes narrowing. “It’s Claire,” she snaps, her voice slicing through the air like a whip. “How many times do I have to remind you?”
Her lips press into a thin line, frustration simmering beneath the surface. For a moment, her knuckles whiten as she grips the door handle, her irritation clear in the subtle tension in her posture.
“Wow,” she says, her tone dripping with mockery. “The great Alexander King is asking for a chance. This is what you should have said earlier, instead of wasting my time.”
She releases the handle and strides toward me, stopping just close enough to let the weight of her words sink in. “How about getting your mother to beg for a chance too?”
she says, her voice sweet with sarca
