"Father!" Tryson roared, his voice echoing through the room. His fury ignited like an uncontrolled fire, raw and volatile.
But Alex didn't flinch. He had expected this reaction. He had prepared for it.
Alex locked eyes with Tryson, his expression unreadable—serious, almost contemplative—for a fleeting moment.
But then, unexpectedly, a dry chuckle escaped his lips.
Lifting the cup in his hand with an air of casual dominance, he took a slow, deliberate sip, his gaze turning ice-cold as it bore into Tryson.
The tension between them was palpable, thick like a storm brewing in the distance.
After setting the cup down with a soft clink, he raised a cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply before exhaling a swirling cloud of smoke into the dimly lit room.
Then, he spoke, his voice carrying a weight of disappointment that cut through the air like a blade.
