Kelvin POV
I sat stiffly at the edge of the dining table, every muscle tense as I watched my father push his food around the plate.
The silver fork scraped gently against the porcelain, the sound grating in the heavy silence.
“Father, what’s the matter?” I asked, my voice low, careful.
He didn’t respond. Just kept toying with his meal, his face drawn tight with barely restrained fury.
He hadn’t said a word to me since the night of the party. I signaled the guards to leave, the echo of their boots fading behind thick mahogany doors until it was just us, and the air thick with unspoken accusations.
“Dad, please. Eat something. For your health, if nothing else,” I said, trying again once the room was empty.
His eyes lifted, smoldering with a wolfish fury.
“You helped her. Why?” His vo
