The great hall was only just settling back into silence after Enzo Valente's trembling retreat when Lukas's phone buzzed. The tone was unusual, a low hum reserved for numbers that weren't supposed to exist. He glanced down, saw the name flashing across the secure line—and raised a brow.
"Patch it through," he said quietly.
Annie and Bella exchanged a look from the balcony, but neither spoke. Katherine froze in place, halfway to the door, the weight of her freedom still raw in her chest. The air grew heavy again as Lukas lifted the phone to his ear.
"Martin," a voice came, smooth yet carrying the gravity of continents. It wasn't fear. It wasn't desperation. It was power, disguised as courtesy. "I heard whispers you might have… inconveniences. Is there trouble in your house?"
Lukas leaned against the marble pillar, his tone calm and steady. "There was. It's handled. Why do you ask?"
