The sound of Robert's knuckles hitting the heavy wooden door reverberated through the hallway like a heartbeat. The silence was long and tense with unsaid tension.
"Enter."
His father's voice carried a weight that made Robert pause. The clan head's tone had changed, something that hinted at storms brewing on far horizons.
The study felt different as Robert stepped inside. John Osborn sat behind his desk, but his normally calm expression had a few cracks in it. His fingers drummed a restless rhythm against the gleaming wood as shadows gathered beneath his eyes.
John signaled to the chair across from him and said, "Sit."
Robert lowered himself slowly, every instinct screaming that whatever news awaited would reshape everything. "Father, what troubles you?"
For a moment, John said nothing. His gaze drifted to the window where the last traces of daylight bled crimson across the sky. When he finally spoke, his words fell like stones into still water.
