The silence after Trafalgar's jab didn't last long. Seraphine's golden eyes widened, her face stiffening before twisting into fury. She pushed back her chair and stood, her voice rising sharply across the hall.
"You insolent bastard! Do you think you can mock me at this table? After everything your father Valttair has given you, this is how you repay him—by spitting shit at your elders?"
Her hands trembled as she pointed across the table at him, her composure shattered. "You are nothing! A mistake of blood, a parasite leeching off this house. You should be grateful you're even allowed to sit here!"
Gasps echoed faintly around the table. Even the younger children shrank at the sight of the First Wife, usually so regal, losing herself completely.
Trafalgar didn't flinch. He sat comfortably, one elbow on the armrest, his chin propped lazily on his hand. His dark-blue eyes fixed on her with a cool, almost amused gleam.
