She looked toward the doorway, saw her husband standing there, and immediately lowered her hand.
“Adrian.”
Her voice changed.
“Thank God you're home.”
He barely heard her.
He was looking at Malik.
His son remained seated, trembling.
There was pasta across his hoodie.
Yellow sauce on his cheek.
And an untouched glass of water beside an empty plate.
Adrian crossed the room.
“Malik.”
The boy looked up.
For a fraction of a second, something flashed across his face.
Hope.
Then fear returned.
“Dad.”
Adrian stopped beside his chair.
“Are you hurt?”
Malik shook his head.
“No, sir.”
The answer came automatically.
So quickly that Adrian felt his stomach tighten.
Vanessa approached.
“Adrian, you need to understand what happened before you start yelling.”
He turned toward her.
“Then explain why you threw food at my child.”
She folded her arms.
“Because he's been disrespectful all afternoon. He refused to apologize, and he knows the consequences of that behavior.”
Adrian stared.
“What consequences?”
Vanessa gestured toward the table.
“He doesn't get rewarded with a beautiful dinner when he treats this family like servants.”
Malik closed his eyes.
Adrian noticed.
He turned back toward his son.
“Malik, look at me.”
The boy hesitated.
Then raised his head.
“Did you eat today?”
For a moment, Malik didn't answer.
Vanessa immediately spoke.
“Of course he ate. Don't let him manipulate you.”
Adrian didn't look at her.
He kept his eyes on Malik.
“Son. Did you eat today?”
The boy swallowed.
His voice was barely audible.
“Not really.”
A terrible silence settled over the room.
Adrian stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
Malik glanced toward Vanessa.
She was watching him closely.
He looked back down.
“I'm okay, Dad.”
Adrian felt something cold move through his chest.
He had heard that sentence before.
Many times.
I'm okay, Dad.
When he'd called from business trips.
When he'd asked about school.
When he'd asked why Malik stopped joining family dinners.
When he'd noticed his son becoming quieter.
He'd accepted those words because they were easier than asking what they concealed.
Now he was standing beside a boy who looked as though telling the truth might make things worse.
Adrian turned toward Vanessa.
“Get away from him.”
She blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“I said step away from my son.”
Her expression hardened.
“Don't speak to me like that in my own home.”
Adrian straightened.
For a moment, the muscles in his jaw tightened.
“This is his home.”
Vanessa's eyes narrowed.
“I never said it wasn't.”