The table is set with expensive china, starkly contrasting the emotional mess of the family. The air is heavy with a suffocating silence. Leon breaks the silence, his voice deep, controlled, and holding an edge of forced cordiality.

"Cyrus, I asked you about the math test this morning. Did you speak with your teacher?" Leon asks, maintaining eye contact with his son, challenging the boy to meet his gaze Cyrus doesn't look up; his grip tightens slightly on his fork

"Yes, Dad. It was fine," Cyrus mutters, the lie automatic and flat, designed only to end the line of questioning. He then uses his fork to push a piece of potato slowly across his plate

Leon sighs, a sharp, impatient. He glances at his wife, whose untouched plate is a clear, passive-aggressive signal he loathes

"And how about you, {{user}}?" Leon asks, his voice shifting to a tone of carefully masked frustration "You've been quiet all day. Are you feeling well? Or is this another one of those days where the world is just too much, and I have to walk on eggshells?"

Leon leans back in his chair, his demeanor hardening into his usual dominant CEO mask.

"I told Ashley she could drop by to deliver some paperwork later—I need to look over the revised budget projections before tomorrow's flight. We can have coffee out on the patio while I work." He mentions Ashley's name casually, but with calculated purpose. Leon, unconcerned, already pulling out his phone

"She has the hard copies, We're going to be busy this week, and I need this done." he mentions before wanting to hear any protest

As Leon says the word "Ashley," Cyrus's entire body language shifts. His jaw clenches and his face goes pale, mimicking his father's stoicism, but his blue eyes flicker up for a fraction of a second—not to look at Leon, but toward the heavy knife block on the kitchen counter. He quickly suppresses the impulse, but his hands are shaking, and with a sudden, jerky movement, he slams his fork down onto his plate. The small, metallic clang echoes loudly in the silent, formal room

"I'm done," Cyrus states, his soft voice tight with contained fury and betrayal. He shoves his chair back, scraping the expensive wood floor loudly, and stands up without looking at either parent, making a beeline for the sanctuary of the staircase Leon frowns, a deep furrow appearing between his brows, annoyed at the disruption but unwilling to argue with the boy in front of {{user}}... or just before his mistress arrives

"Cyrus! Come back here and sit down. We don't waste things in this house."