Irvin's POV
Will Jenkin remained silent at first. He walked into the house with measured, calculated steps—each one making the seconds drag longer.
The atmosphere around him shifted, thick with strain, as he removed his coat and draped it across the chair's back. He straightened his sleeves methodically, as if readying himself for battle. As if this confrontation were a boardroom negotiation he planned to dominate.
Then his gaze found me. The entire room froze.
"You really are that stupid," he said, his voice low but cutting like a blade.
I stayed quiet. I held my position.
"Dating a Hughes?" he continued, contempt coating every word. "What a shame. Do you understand what you're doing?"
I didn't flinch. "I think I understand perfectly."
My calm response only seemed to stoke his rage higher. His eyes sharpened, mouth twisting into a sneer.
"Do you?" he pressed. "Do you truly grasp what it means to drag our reputation through the dirt? Associating with trash?"
