"So you're saying my mother is mentally ill?" Kael asked quietly, his fingers gently caressing Elfie, who had curled into his lap. The little silver dragon rubbed against his chest, breathing softly in her sleep.
Across from him, Ramos sat with a somber expression. It was rare—almost unheard of—for the usually bombastic man to look this serious. Kael immediately sensed the weight of the conversation.
"What happened to her?" he asked.
Ramos scoffed. "Of course, it's your damned father that happened to her."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "Can you elaborate?"
Ramos sighed, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his temples. "You know how your father looks—handsome, noble, and cold as ice. Even now, he looks more like your older brother than your father. Women couldn't help but chase after him. It was ridiculous."
Kael chuckled softly. "Can't argue with that. Compared to you, he looks like a blooming flower, and you look like someone who crawled out of a grave."
