"So what?"
Two words, soft and almost lazy, but they cut through the air like glass.
"I didn't ask for any of that," Max continued, voice low. "You took me in because you saw a use for me. Because you needed someone to mold, to place on the board. Don't act like you did it out of kindness."
George's mouth parted, but no sound came.
"You gave me your name," Max said, voice low but laced with iron, "but never your trust. Never your protection. You made sure the sister you used was out of the way first."
George's eyes widened, a crack finally spidering across that carefully composed mask. His hand twitched around the glass—tight enough to break it if he weren't careful.
"What?"
Max didn't let him breathe.
"Did you think I wouldn't figure it out?" Max went on, step by slow step toward the desk. "That you pushed her into Hadeon's arms? You knew exactly what kind of man he was. The bastard doesn't care who he fucks. Noble blood or not."
