Lydia's POV
As soon as we stepped into the chamber, the heavy door closing behind us with a thud that echoed my frustration, I turned to Jethro. The air felt thick, charged with the night's chaos, and I couldn't hold back anymore. "When is Serah going to stop disgracing us?" I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended. I paced a little, my gown swishing against the stone floor, replaying the scene in the hall—the whispers, the stares, Serah's pathetic tears.
Jethro leaned against the table, his arms crossed, looking thoughtful in that brooding way of his. He didn't answer right away, which only irritated me more. Finally, he said, "I think I need to question the child in Serah's belly."
I stopped pacing and stared at him, stunned. "Are you trying to consider what people are saying about the paternity of the child?" My heart raced a bit. This was new territory for him, admitting doubt like that.
