Kelvin’s POV
The knock was soft. Hesitant.
That alone made my stomach turn.
My father never knocked like that. And he was never hesitant.
I stood in front of the mirror, my shoulders tight, smoothing wax through my hair. “Come in, Dad.”
The heavy oak door creaked as it opened.
I didn’t turn.
I was adjusting my tie now, watching him through the mirror. He looked immaculate, pressed black coat, silver embroidery gleaming at the cuffs like threads of frost.
“I know how you feel about her,” he said.
I blinked. The air grew thin.
“About who?”
His eyes narrowed. Cold. Calculating. “Diana. Don’t insult me by pretending I can’t see it.”
My stomach twisted. I turned to face him. “Dad… why are you here?”
He raised a hand, silencing me. “It doesn’t matter why I’m here. What matters is th
