Victor's voice cut in smoothly.
"I didn't realize she was awake," he said—to Aaron. Calmly. Politely. The kind of tone that invited correction while daring it.
His eyes never left Aaron's face. "You must be…?"
Aaron straightened immediately, instinct sharpening his posture. He had that quiet competence about him—like someone used to stepping into rooms that weren't his and making them feel steady.
"Aaron," he replied. "Cynthia's cousin. I was asked to sit with her."
Victor nodded once. Slow. Deliberate. A faint smile touched his mouth—controlled, almost surgical. "How considerate."
His gaze flicked—just for a second—to where Aaron's hand rested too close to mine on the edge of the mattress. When Victor looked back up, the smile hadn't shifted.
But something in the room had.
The air felt tighter. Thinner.
"Alyssa's been through enough," Victor continued evenly. "She doesn't do well with strangers getting too close."
