“Sit down, William.”

His father’s cold voice echoed as William stepped into the grand living room, filled with classic paintings and the faint scent of fresh flowers.

William didn’t sit immediately. His eyes scanned the room and landed on his mother, seated gracefully on the right side of the sofa. And on the left—

Clarissa.

She smiled sweetly, dressed in a simple yet elegant white dress, her hair neatly flowing, her pink lips curled in a smile as if they were already well acquainted.

William let out a short sigh, then sat upright.

“Why did you call me here so suddenly?”

“We want to talk,” his mother said, her voice...