His mind grew increasingly restless.
Taylor picked up the pen again, but the inspiration to write had vanished.
The corners of his lips twitched slightly as he set the pen down and walked to the balcony, standing motionless.
His cold, heavy gaze narrowed slightly into the empty distance, as if lost in memory.
Inside the room at the rear of the Luther Family Estate, Dr. Caleb felt as though an entire mountain weighed upon him under Sinclair's piercing stare.
Even breathing became an exercise in caution.
His hand, gripping the scalpel, trembled faintly—not from cowardice, but from the sheer, suffocating intensity of Sinclair's presence.
Noticing this, Sinclair's expression darkened with displeasure.
"Sweetheart,"
Camilla spoke up, diverting his attention.
"Keep me company for a while, won't you?"
"Of course,"
Sinclair replied softly, lowering his gaze to meet hers.
His fingers brushed gently against her cheek.
"What would you like to talk about,
Camilla?"
