Selene's POV
I stepped closer to his desk, placing the steaming cup in front of him. "I thought…" I paused, forcing my voice out. "I thought maybe you could use this. You've been under a lot of stress."
His eyes narrowed sharply, flicking from the cup to me. A frown pulled at his mouth. "What is wrong with you?" he demanded. "One moment you push me away, swear you don't want me, and the next you're offering me coffee like some doting lover. Which is it, Selene?"
My throat tightened. I looked away, biting back the storm of words clawing at me. "Nothing," I whispered finally, my hands curling against my sides.
He studied me for another long moment, suspicion etched across his face. Then, with a sharp inhale, he lifted the cup and took a slow sip.
"That boy," Frederick said suddenly, setting the cup down. His voice had lost its sharpness, replaced by something heavier. "He is my son."
My eyes widened, though I stayed silent.
