THORNE’S POV
The moment Maren left the office, the air in my father’s study transformed into a shroud of dangerous silence.
My father leaned back in his chair, interlacing his fingers over his abdomen with an expression on his face that denoted a mixture of relief and suspicion. He turned his gaze toward me, evaluating me with an intensity that made me arch my eyebrows.
"It seems Miss Maren’s explanation makes sense, Thorne," my father said, dropping the pages onto the desk.
Those simple words made me clench my teeth so hard I felt a crack in my jaw. I could only nod mechanically while my insides twisted.
"However," my father continued, pointing an inquiring finger at me, "the way you were leaning over her in that photo... it nearly caused an irreparable stain on your name. A professo
