Ryan's gaze remained unwavering, sharp and observant, as Fiona seemed to drift, her eyes slightly unfocused, searching, grasping for meaning she couldn't quite reach.
Across the table, Manson was the very picture of indifference. He set his coffee down with unhurried ease, picked up a croissant, tore it cleanly in half, and slid a portion of scrambled eggs between the layers. Not a flicker of concern crossed his face as he took a bite calmly, composed utterly unbothered.
A sudden burst of laughter broke the tension.
"Hahaha… Fiona, relax. I was only joking."
Fiona blinked, the haze clearing as a small, sheepish smile curved her lips. "Hehehe… alright." She picked up her food, beginning to eat, though a trace of uncertainty still lingered in her eyes.
But Ryan wasn't watching her anymore.
His attention had shifted locked onto Manson.
Their gazes collided.
Manson's lips curled into a knowing smirk, subtle yet deliberate, as though he had already seen through everything.
