Zoe's POV
The moment Brandon stepped through the door, the air in the dining room shifted. Mr. Ross's chair scraped against the marble floor as he rose to his feet, his jaw tightening. His voice, firmer than before.
"Brandon. We need to talk. Now."
Brandon froze mid-step, his eyes narrowing. He had an attitude, "Can it wait?" he sighed. His tone was casual, but his posture wasn't—shoulders squared, chin raised. Exuding a quiet confidence
"No, it cannot wait—" Mr. Ross's voice sharpened, already pushing toward a boil.
"Bran," Margaret's voice cut in, calm but firm. She rose gracefully, slipping herself between them like someone stepping into a storm to redirect the wind. "We just got back. It's our first dinner together after the trip. Let's just eat first. Please." Her actions seemed like a request, but her eyes told a different story. It felt more like a warning.
Mr. Ross hesitated, but glanced at her, and something in her look made him sit back down.
