Maximilian smirked. His hand moved before he quite realized it... His fingers drifted toward her hair and stopped at the very tips. He pressed a fingertip there, cautiously, gently, as though testing whether he had the right to touch her at all.
"I've already told you who she is," he said quietly. "The only person I'd ever bring into my home. You should have known, Mother. And yet… you still insulted her. And her family."
"Max…?"
His mother's voice wavered, incredulous. This was the son she had raised: the obedient one who had given up meat simply because she asked, who had stepped into the role of man of the house after his father's death without complaint.
Always respectful. Always gentle. Always responsible.
And now… this tone.
