The moment the door clicked shut behind Lucien and Philip, the air inside Charlie Moreau's office stretched thin. The kind of thin that made it impossible to pretend nothing was wrong.
Charlie didn't speak at first.
He simply rested both hands on the polished surface of his desk and looked at her—not as her father, not even as the Chairman of Moreau Dynamics, but as a man who had already pieced together enough to know she was hiding something.
"Celestia," he said finally, "what is it you're not telling me?"
Val had heard that tone her whole life.
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't harsh.
But it was sharp enough to slice through any attempt to dodge.
She kept her posture straight, hands clasped in front of her. "Nothing that affects today's review."
"Don't play with your words." Charlie leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing just a fraction. "You wouldn't have stood silent in a project briefing unless there was a reason."
Val inhaled slowly.
