Arthur's hand caught my wrist before I could take another step toward Felix.
"Wait," he whispered, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "Going to see your great-uncle alone is suicide."
I turned to face him, surprised by the intensity in his eyes. "He's my family. I should handle this."
"No." Arthur's grip tightened slightly. "Uncle Dubois isn't just any family patriarch. He's ruthless, Elara. People who cross him don't just lose business deals—they lose limbs."
A chill ran down my spine. The stories about Uncle Dubois had always seemed exaggerated, but Arthur's expression told me otherwise.
"What should I do?" I whispered back.
Arthur's eyes darted to Felix, who was watching our exchange with barely concealed impatience.
"Let me handle this," Arthur said. "I'll speak to him on your behalf."
Felix cleared his throat. "Time's wasting. Uncle doesn't like to be kept waiting."
