The screen held her image—elegant, composed, perfectly lit as always—but Damien saw it immediately.
So did Dominic.
The subtle tightness around her eyes. The way her shoulders, usually poised like a portrait, lifted and lowered too fast for someone truly calm. Her lips were relaxed—but not from indifference. From the effort of holding something heavier back.
Vivienne Elford was trying to look normal.
And failing, just enough for the people who knew her to see through it.
Damien's voice cut through gently. "Mother."
That single word softened her. Not visibly, not fully—but it was there. A flicker. A warmth trying to stay hidden under polished restraint.
"I see you're still breathing," she said lightly.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of Damien's mouth. "Despite your expectations."
Her eyes narrowed—not coldly. Almost fond. "Don't be dramatic. If I expected you to fail, I wouldn't have been calling half the military-grade relay points in the capital."
