The Dean's forced smile lingered for a moment before he let out a short, uneasy laugh. "What are you, the FBI now?" he asked, trying to sound amused. His voice cracked slightly at the end, and even he could hear the strain.
Harper raised a brow, unimpressed. "I'm just asking a question, Dad."
He waved his hand dismissively, a chuckle bubbling out — stiff, unnatural, the kind of laugh that fills silence rather than releases it. "The beta symbol, huh?" He leaned back in his chair, trying to seem relaxed, but his shoulders were tight. "It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? I picked it because I liked how it looked. That's all."
Harper tilted her head, studying him. His tone was too casual, too smooth — like he had practiced that answer long before she ever asked.
"You picked it because it looked nice?" she repeated, her voice soft but laced with disbelief.
