"Marjorie Steward."
Seraphine's voice was calm, stripped of warmth, as she settled into the leather chair directly opposite Ravyn.
Her posture was composed, almost relaxed, but her eyes were empty, hard, distant, nothing like the woman he remembered.
On either side of her stood two men in dark suits, silent and alert, their presence unmistakably protective. They didn't look like assistants. They looked like men trained to intervene if necessary.
Maddox glanced between them, brow creasing. "You two know each other?" he asked, genuine confusion coloring his tone.
No one answered. The silence pressed down heavily, thick enough that Ravyn felt it lodge in his chest. His shock was immediate, and sharp. For a brief second, his composure cracked.
"No," he said finally, shaking his head once as if dismissing the entire situation. "Sadly, Daisy is injured, so I have to leave. I don't have time for this."
