The estate was abuzz with whispers, though no one dared speak too loudly. Servants tiptoed down the marble halls, avoiding eye contact with the nobles and ducking out of sight when voices rose.
The meeting between Duke Heinsberg, Kyle, and Nigel had ended, but no word had come out.
What had been discussed behind those doors was locked tight, and that silence was maddening—especially for Christan.
He stood in his study, hands clenched into fists behind his back as he stared out the window at the garden.
His eyes were sharp, narrowed, burning with frustration. A servant stood behind him, trembling, waiting for orders.
"Well? Spit it out. What was said in that meeting?"
Christan snapped without turning.
The servant fidgeted.
"I... I apologize, Young Master. None of us were allowed near the room. The guards said—"
A loud crash silenced him.
The shattered remains of a porcelain vase scattered across the floor.