I leaned forward without meaning to. My breath brushed against my lips like a warning. I could not see what was inside the folder, but I saw the way he flipped through the pages, pausing occasionally to examine notes.
My stomach twisted. Then he stopped humming.
His shoulders stiffened, almost imperceptibly. Slowly, as if bracing himself, he turned toward the staircase. His eyes met mine. For an instant neither of us moved.
Silas’s expression did not explode into shock. It unfolded. Surprise softened into calculation. Then settled into a calm so cold it made my fingertips go numb.
“Nora,” he said quietly. “You should be asleep.”
The sound of my own name felt foreign coming from him. I gripped the railing because my knees threatened to give way.
“What are you doing,” I whispered.
He closed the folder as if it were a bill he would finish reading later. “You were struggling. I needed to manage the situation before it grew worse.”
“Manage,” I repeated, barely breathing. “You drugged me.”
“You required stability,” he said, taking one slow step toward me. “You refused to rest. You forgot things. You grew distant. I had to intervene.”