Lena's jaw tightened. "A gift is not a reason to take a child."
"No," he said. "It is a reason not to leave her where the world will crush it for lack of money."
The words hit too close to a hard truth, and Lena hated that it resonated. "My daughter is not being crushed."
"I did not say she was being crushed by you."
Victor shifted his weight, sensing the conversation turning far too honest for his comfort. "Charles, perhaps it would be wiser to frame this as scholarship support to begin with. Training, housing assistance, a family advancement package... something structured."
Lena looked sharply at him. "A package?"
Victor's tone remained smooth. "I mean comprehensive support."
"You mean language that sounds clean enough to print in the morning paper."
Charles's eyes flicked toward Victor. "Leave us."
Victor blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I said, leave us."
For the first time that evening, Victor's mask slipped completely. It wasn't much, but it was enough. He set his tablet down on the sideboard, nodded stiffly, and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him. The silence afterward felt immediately cleaner.
Charles looked down at Annie again. "How old are you, Annie?"
"Six."