"Continue. We're listening," Chelsea said, her voice cold but steady.
"Are we?" Lea whispered, glancing sideways at her sister.
"We are," Chelsea replied without hesitation, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Ross raised an eyebrow, amused by their attempt to look composed.
"Fine. Then sit on the bed first." He motioned lazily toward the mattress behind them. "I don't want either of you fainting or getting too shocked to think straight. What I'm about to say might… stun you."
Chelsea shot him a sharp glare but moved anyway, brushing past him as though touching the air around him was offensive enough.
She walked to the bed with rigid posture and sat down, legs crossed, chin lifted.
Lea followed a second later, though far less confidently. Her steps were small.
Her breaths uneven. Chelsea could be brilliant, but impulsive—and this situation was spiraling fast.
Still, Lea lowered herself beside her sister, trying to mimic her calm.
