Roman’s eyes squinted at his mother’s question.

“Klara? What kind of question is that Mom?”

“Just answer it.” Salima insisted.

“I can’t answer what I don’t know. Why are you bringing up Klara, what does she have to do with any of this?” Roman snapped.

“I’m not saying she has anything to do with this, I just want to know where she stands with you. And in this home.” Salima breathed.

Roman’s jaw flexed. Of all the things Salima could’ve asked, this—this was the one he wasn’t prepared for.

“Klara and I?” he repeated, voice flat.

Salima didn’t blink. “I’m not blind. Something is off. Every time Tessa walks into...