Percival Covington descended the stairs with measured steps, his face a mask of perfect calm despite the chaos erupting below. The crowd parted before him like waves before the bow of a ship. His gaze never wavered from Lyra, standing alone in the center of judgment and condemnation.
The whispers died as he approached. Even those who had been loudest in their accusations fell silent, intimidated by his presence.
Percival's expensive shoes clicked against the marble floor. Each step echoed in the sudden quiet. He was halfway to Lyra when Colette broke from her circle of sympathizers and rushed toward him.
"Mr. Covington!" she cried, her face streaked with theatrical tears. "You must take responsibility for what you've done to my daughter!"
She clutched at his arm, her voice rising to a hysterical pitch. "You've ruined her reputation! Used her! Led her astray!"
Percival didn't even look at her. He signaled to Roman with the slightest tilt of his chin.
