Location: Sheridan Estate, Bordeaux Room — 7:14 PM
The crystal chandelier cast light across the antique world map laid over the long oak table.
At the head of the room stood Levy Sheridan, leaning on his cane, his cold gaze scanning the century-old portraits on the walls. As if waiting for history to turn in his favor.
Before him sat his three children:
Robert — alert under his tailored jacket, a lion ready to strike.
Olivia — lips curled in a sly diplomatic smile.
Polina "Duchess" — silent and calculating, turning a knife in her gloved hand like a rosary.
Levy spoke first:
"Gerard Solina is dead. And another stone has fallen from Rome's old heart."
Silence.
Olivia chuckled lightly. "We're not going to mourn a Solina, are we?"
Polina's voice came soft and haunting:
"No. But even a death we don't mourn... can make empires kneel."
Robert leaned in over the table. "Damian is back. The quiet one. Does anyone even remember him?"
Levy gave a slow nod. "No. Because someone didn't want him to be remembered."
Olivia narrowed her eyes. "He left for the military. That much I recall. Then—gone. Like he was raised in the dark."
Robert scoffed.
"And now he returns. Father dead. Throne empty. Siblings scattered. He shows up with no warning, no explanation."
Polina spun her knife slowly.
"If the military forged him... why is he back now? Even we didn't see it coming."
Levy's cane tapped the floor.
"Has anyone... pulled his file?"
Olivia shook her head. "No file. At least not one we could get. Just redacted missions, blacked-out pages... nothing solid. Even the American deep state won't speak his name."
Levy stood quiet for a beat. Then he spoke:
"Someone either turned him into a weapon...
Or he was always one."
Robert tensed. "Should we kill him?"
Without looking up, Polina murmured:
"If you don't know what you're killing, blood is just noise."
Levy rested his cane against the table.
"The Solina Dynasty is cracking. The siblings will turn on each other. We wait."
"But remember this... Damian Solina is not a threat."
"Threats can be seen."
"He is a shadow."
Olivia's Private Chambers — 9:03 PM
The fireplace crackled gently. Olivia sat alone on the edge of an antique chaise lounge, still wearing the same blood-red dress from the family meeting.
A glass of wine rested untouched beside her.
She didn't blink. Didn't move.
Outside, the wind rustled the ivy crawling across the stone walls of the Sheridan estate.
She finally exhaled.
"You actually came back..."
"After all these years..."
Her voice was barely above a whisper. Not meant for anyone but the walls—and the ghost of a boy she once knew.
She stood, pacing. Her heels echoed sharply on the marble floor.
"You were never supposed to come back, Damian."
She stopped in front of the mirror. Looked at herself—not for vanity, but for memory.
"We made a promise. You left the family... the name... me."
"And I buried you. Like the rest of my heart."
She picked up a small velvet box from her vanity and opened it. Inside: a simple military dog tag... his.
The initials etched: D. S.
Scratched, worn. But real.
Her voice cracked:
"They said you disappeared. Went off-grid. Not even death notices. Just... silence."
"I thought maybe you had the decency to forget me. To forget all of it."
"But now... you're here. In the middle of my family's war."
Her grip tightened around the tag.
"How am I supposed to hate you when part of me still hopes you remember that night?"
"That stupid night under the bridge... when we were just Olivia and Damian. Not Sheridan. Not Solina."
She turned sharply toward the fire.
"But you're not that boy anymore."
"And I'm not that girl."
A single tear fell, but her face turned ice-cold again almost instantly.
She dropped the dog tag into a locked drawer, turned the key, and whispered:
"Next time we meet... it'll be across the line. And I won't hesitate."
She took a breath. Composed herself. The Duchess would return soon for another war council.
But Olivia Sheridan—the girl—
had just been buried all over again.
[End of Interlude — The Sheridans Watch]
"There is love of course. And then there's life, its enemy."
-Jean Anouilh