Elise needed space. She needed quiet. She had been so certain her love for James was unconditional, that he could do no wrong in her eyes.

But now, she realized with startling clarity that she had overestimated her own patience.

The moment Elise stepped out of James's room, she drew in deep, ragged breaths. She filled her lungs until they burned. It took several long moments for the frantic rhythm of her heart to finally settle.

A profound thirst suddenly gripped her. Her throat felt raw and scratchy, a direct consequence of the long night spent painstakingly coaching pronunciations. She lifted her gaze and found William seated at the living room bar, his laptop open before him.

He wore a pair of silver-framed glasses. It was the first time she had ever seen him in them. They gave him the deceptive air of a sophisticated, cultured intellectual. His fingers were still typing, but his eyes were fixed on her. He had undoubtedly witnessed her entire frantic display.

Elise hadn't expected to find him here in the living room.

Didn't he usually confine his work to the study?

"So? How is it progressing?" William inquired.

She could detect a faint undercurrent of amusement in his tone.

How could he remain so detached when his own son had been singled out by his teachers?

"Not well," she admitted, the words tasting like defeat.

"Do you require assistance?" William pressed.

"Were you ever successful in teaching him anything?"

"No."

Why had she even asked? She shot him a sidelong glance. "Where can I get some water?"

"I'll get it for you." Elise immediately refused.

"No, thank you. I can manage—"

Before she could finish her sentence, William was already moving toward the kitchen. He returned with a glass of warm water. She would have preferred something ice-cold to douse the simmering frustration inside her.

"Warm water is better for you right now," William stated, as if he had read her mind. "Given your cycle."

Elise pressed her lips together. He was far too observant.

"I noticed," he added simply.

He really could, couldn't he? She chose to ignore him, draining the glass in several long swallows before handing it back.

"Thank you."

"Would you like to take a break?" he offered.

"No," Elise said bluntly.

"There's really no need for such urgency, you know," he said then. "James—"

"No urgency?!" she snapped, her agitation flaring anew. "He is the only child in his entire class who can't read! He'll be ridiculed, William. Mocked by every other student. Do you have any idea what that kind of humiliation can do to a child? It could leave a permanent scar!"

William fell silent.

His personal rulebook was simple: the lady was always right. There were no other rules.

"Don't assume everyone possesses your detached perspective just because you reside in an ivory tower," she retorted.

With that final remark, she turned on her heel and marched back into James's room.

William watched her retreating figure, a slow, deliberate smile curving his lips. It was a rare sight, seeing her so thoroughly ruffled. He found he rather cherished the display.

He returned to his seat at the bar and opened the file on his laptop. It contained James's recent IQ test results, sent to him by the child psychologist. A part of him had harbored a quiet, unspoken worry that James might genuinely be struggling cognitively, though he never let it show.

The results, however, laid all his concerns to rest.

His son was a prodigy.