"What does that mean?" I demanded, my voice barely above a whisper.
His lips curled into a grim smile, but there was no warmth in it. "It means you’re in over your head."
"Stop talking in riddles, Nathaniel!" I snapped. "If this is about my father, then tell me. What aren’t you saying?"
His eyes darkened, and for a split second, I thought I saw something raw and unguarded—a flicker of vulnerability. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual armor of arrogance and disdain.
"Your father has a way of destroying everything he touches," he said coldly. "And if you’re not careful, he’ll destroy you too."
The accusation felt like a slap. "Don’t you dare talk about my father like that."
"Why not? Because it’s true?" he shot back, his voice rising. "Or because deep down, you already know it?"
The room seemed to close in on me. Every word he said felt like a knife twisting in my gut, but I refused to let him see me break.
"You think you’re so righteous," I said through gritted teeth. "But you’re just as ruthless as he is."
For a moment, silence hung between us, heavy and charged. Then, Nathaniel stepped back, his expression hardening.