Soren ignored Lyndon when the older man raised his wine glass toward him in a silent toast.
He didn't even pretend to acknowledge it.
Instead, his gaze shifted to Spade, who stood quietly at his side.
"No matter what happens," Soren said, his voice carrying the weight of a direct military order, "don't let Lady Lynette enter my room."
Spade immediately straightened. "Yes, Commander."
Without hesitation, he stepped outside and closed the door behind him, taking his position as a guard.
The moment the room fell silent, Soren leaned back in his chair, his expression darkening.
Seriously.
That old man really didn't know when to give up.
For years, Lyndon had continued pushing the engagement forward as though sheer persistence would eventually force Soren into accepting it.
Invitations arrived one after another. Formal dinners. Family gatherings. Noble events. Every few months there was some new excuse designed to place him in the same room as Lynette.
