The doors closed behind Trevor and Lucas with a quiet finality that echoed louder than any slammed insult.
For a long moment, the table remained still. The air was heavy with unsaid things and polished malice.
Then Lucia set her wineglass down, quietly, carefully, like a blade being sheathed.
"So," she said, her voice like velvet dragged over glass, "this is what you wanted, isn't it?"
Serathine didn't look up. She dabbed the corner of her mouth with her napkin, serene as a storm eye. "If you're asking whether I support the only competent man in this bloodline marrying someone worthy of him, then yes. Fully."
Cressida tilted her head, resting one elbow on the arm of her chair, chin in her hand. "You gave him nothing but debt and silence for over a decade. Don't be surprised he found a better family elsewhere."
Lucia's gaze snapped to her. "You always loved replacing things, didn't you? Your husband. Your heirs. Now your name."
