Silence stretched between them. Daphne’s eyes scanned the gloom, searching for the source of the voice and the spot where he sat."Guests arrive at the front door," the voice crackled. "Assets come through the back."Wiping a smudge of concrete dust from her cheek, Daphne narrowed her eyes against the harsh, artificial glare.She didn’t look like a victim; she looked like a woman who had finally secured the right coordinates."Assets?" A sharp, breathless laugh rang against the metallic walls. "Is that what I am now? After everything I risked to get past Beatrix’s little army?"Rising to her feet, she moved with the fluid, predatory grace of a hunter. She didn't wait for an invitation; instead, she stalked toward the edge of the spotlight’s reach to peer into the velvet blackness of the far corner."Where are you?" Her voice dropped into a low, intimate hum. "The digitized voice was a nice touch, but it’s getting old. I didn’t run through the docks to talk to a speaker."A soft click

"Perhaps he’s finally realized he can't fight the council alone," one guest suggested, though his voice lacked conviction."Tedmond Washington doesn't realize he needs help; he realizes he needs targets," a younger heir countered, eyes fixed on the entrance. "Think about the timing. He’s been purging the secondary branches for days.”“If he shows up here, in the heart of the Moretti estate, he’s either surrendering, or he’s bringing the fire to the front door. And Tedmond doesn't know how to surrender."The murmurs grew in volume, a low, tectonic vibration that filled the crystalline space. In the rigid hierarchy of the city, the Washingtons were the sun: distant, burning, and singular. They didn't orbit other families; they didn't attend parties; they merely allowed them to happen. The fact that the black-suited Washington was breaking his years-long social exile for the family that had facilitated his mother’s kidnapping made the champagne taste like vinegar to those who understo

"Now," Persis continued, her lips tilting into a sharp, clinical smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Since my husband and I have spent the last fifteen years concerned with matters of actual consequence, I find I haven't had the time to memorize the roster of every adjacent branch on the map.”“To be perfectly blunt: I don’t care about your family history, and I have absolutely no idea what any of your names are."A collective intake of breath hissed through the room. Cordelia’s grip on the door handle tightened, her copper hair practically vibrating with indignation. Juliette froze, her cigarette holder halfway to her lips, her burgundy eyes narrowing.Persis gestured vaguely toward the circle of women with a gold-cuffed hand. "So, if we are to have this discussion you seem so eager for, it would be beneficial for you to introduce yourselves.”“One by one, please. I’d hate to mislabel a file later when we’re deciding which parts of the Moretti infrastructure are still worth keeping.

The silence following Tedmond’s accusation was heavy, like the ionized air before a lightning strike.Lorenzo, Vincenzo, and Pietro didn't immediately protest. Instead, their faces shifted, the masks of nostalgic warmth crumbling to reveal the cold, calculating stone beneath. Lorenzo’s brow furrowed into a jagged line as he cast a sharp, sideways glance at Pietro. The look was brief: a flicker of recognition that they weren't dealing with an impulsive heir, but a tactician who had come armed with receipts. A grim, silent understanding passed between them: this one was going to be difficult.Tedmond watched them with predatory stillness. He caught the minute tilt of Lorenzo’s head and the twitch of Vincenzo’s hand over his knee, clear signals in the silent language of the Old Blood families. He didn't need to know the specific cipher to recognize the intent. They were shifting formation, closing ranks against a threat they could no longer patronize."Our apologies, Mr. Washington