Rachel's father opened his mouth again, some further explanation or justification clearly forming, but Marcus had already turned his back on him entirely, returning his full attention to Rachel, gathering her gently but protectively against his chest, one arm curving carefully around her rounded belly.
"Sir," her father tried again, his voice climbing with mounting desperation, "if you'd just let me—"
"No," Marcus said, the single word carrying an absolute, unshakeable finality that silenced the room entirely. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. The controlled authority in that single syllable made unmistakably clear that whatever explanation, whatever justification, whatever careful family arrangement had been operating in his absence, was no longer going to be tolerated.
Rachel buried her face against his chest, her shoulders shaking with quiet, exhausted sobs, finally allowing herself to fully collapse into the safety of his embrace after what had clearly been months of managing this situation entirely alone.