Kane's POV
The stairs groaned under my weight, each step a hollow echo, a reminder of what awaited me.
The dining room lights were already on, casting a warm, yellow glow over the long table—but it did nothing to soften the taut, suffocating tension in the air. My mother, Elizabeth, sat upright at the head of the table, her back perfectly straight, hands folded neatly on the surface. She wasn't eating, wasn't reviewing documents. She was simply watching me.
Her gaze made me sigh silently.
"What exactly are you up to, Kane?"
Just as I expected.
I pulled out a chair and sat across from her, the legs scraping briefly against the floor. I didn't look up immediately. Instead, I poured myself a glass of water, letting the cool liquid bring me back into the present.
"Nothing," I said flatl
