Evander's POV
"So, why are you here, son?" My father asked, his voice calm and welcoming as he gestured for me to take a seat. He settled into a chair across from me. His posture was relaxed, yet his sharp eyes studied me closely.
His words snapped me out of my thoughts. I realized I had been staring at the room, taking in the warmth of this modest but cozy home. "Oh…" I muttered, feeling momentarily awkward as I sank into the chair.
Before I could form a proper response, the young girl, Eliza, chimed in eagerly. "Brother… I mean, can I call you that?" she asked, her wide eyes sparkling with excitement.
The question caught me off guard, and I hesitated. The word "brother" felt strange to me, foreign even. I had grown up as the youngest son in the Kensington family, accustomed to solitude, manipulation, and coldness. And now, here I was, face-to-face with two siblings who seemed genuinely excited to meet me—well, at least the girl was.