Alexander’s POV
The tension in the room is suffocating, as though the very air has thickened with the weight of everything resting on my shoulders. My mother’s stare is like fire, burning holes through me as I scramble for something—anything—to say.
But the words don’t come. My mouth is dry, and my mind races, but nothing coherent forms.
Cynthia stands off to the side, watching with that same cold expression she always wears when things start falling apart.
I clenched my fist at her look, and for a split second, I wonder if she’s enjoying this—seeing me under the scrutiny of my mother, my power and control slipping through my fingers like sand. She thrives in chaos, always has. But this… this is something else entirely.
“Alexander!” My mother snaps, her voice pulling me back to the
