The room was filled with a suffocating silence as Margaret Winters’ sharp gaze swept over her husband. She squared her shoulders, her expression unreadable.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to imply,” she said coolly, her tone sharp and unwavering.

“But I’m looking at my husband, Thomas Winters, right now. There’s nothing off about him.”

Ryan’s breath hitched. His gaze flickered between his mother and Steve, waiting for some kind of reaction—a hesitation, a flicker of doubt. But Margaret remained completely convinced that nothing was wrong.

Steve smirked, shaking his head slightly. “Well, Philip,” he said, his voice laced with amusement as he looked at Thomas. “Are you going to...