Avery's Point of View
The air in the kitchen was thin, sucked dry by the intensity of his gaze. Every muscle in my body was locked in a defensive posture, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.
He had seen it. He had recognized the family traits. The way he was looking at me—a volatile mix of raw confusion, dawning suspicion, and that signature, explosive anger—told me that if I cracked now, I would lose everything.
I forced myself to stand my ground. I didn't look away.
"You’re overstepping, Rhett," I said, my voice surprisingly steady, though my hands beneath the counter were trembling violently. I let out a sharp, cold laugh, feigning a look of complete exasperation to mask the terror. "I realize you have a history of making everything about yourself, but this is a
