Whispers followed me like ghosts.
Footsteps. Eyes. Questions no one dared ask out loud.
My knuckles were still blood-wet. My breathing unsteady. And Ivan… He wouldn't look at me. Not once.
I didn't call his name. I didn't beg him to.
What would I even say? I'm sorry you saw what I really am?
I'm sorry I almost became my father right in front of you?
Someone grabbed my arm. A superior. I didn't even register what he said.
Only one name echoed in my skull when he mentioned who was waiting in the office.
Ewan Roman.
By the time they opened the door and shoved me inside, the air was already suffocating.
My father sat in a chair like he owned the whole damn building, one leg crossed, arms spread on either side like this was his throne.
He didn't even glance up at first.
Only when the door shut did he finally look at me.
His eyes flicked to my bloodstained hand.
And he smiled.That fucking smile. Like I was doing exactly what he'd raised me for.
