"Maeve," Jonathan says again, gently shaking her hands. "Please… say something."
Maeve keeps blinking.
"What… what can I say… I—I don't understand," she says weakly, her mind racing. She frowns.
The two senior men take her frown as dissatisfaction.
They exchange a glance.
Jonathan guides her to sit on the nearby sofa.
All three of them sit down.
"Maeve," Jonathan starts.
"Tell me what you're thinking. You haven't really told me anything." He exhales. "I'm sorry I haven't been a good father to you. I really am. Now, please. Tell me how you and Arthur met. Tell me everything."
The moment Maeve hears the word father, an alarm goes off in her head.
She looks up, her gaze shifting between Jonathan and Victor.
"You've read the report," she says curtly. "That's how I met Arthur."
She takes a breath.
