Genevieve's POV
The breakfast table silence felt alive, breathing down my neck like a predator waiting to strike. Every clink of silverware echoed too loud in the formal dining room. Every movement felt magnified under Benedict's watchful gaze.
I reached across the table for the serving dish, spooning eggs and bacon onto my plate with practiced calm. My hands remained steady. I refused to let them shake, no matter how my nerves screamed. The fork touched porcelain with a soft chime before I set it down and moved to pour water from the crystal pitcher.
Benedict's stare burned against my profile, but I kept my focus on the simple task. Water flowed into my glass in a controlled stream until it reached halfway. I placed the pitcher back exactly where I found it.
"Seraphina." Benedict's voice cut through the quiet like a blade.
His daughter glanced up from her plate where she'd been rearranging her bacon into tiny pieces. "Yeah?"
