Jayden's glare remained locked onto Anthony, sharp as a blade, while his father quietly stripped away his layers of defence. Anthony sat completely composed, bathed in an icy tranquillity that felt far more dangerous than any outburst. Beside them, Sarah wished the polished floorboards would open up and swallow her whole. The contrast was suffocating; their evening had begun wrapped in genuine warmth, marked by easy banter and shared laughter. Now, in an instant, the atmosphere had soured into something fraught, heavy, and terrifying.
"Were you spying on me, Dad?" Jayden's voice carried a dangerous, low hiss. Frustration flared visibly across his sharp features.
Anthony held his son's gaze without blinking, letting the silence stretch until it felt almost oppressive. "Not at first," he answered softly.
