The noise of the ballroom faded the further Tedmond walked from the glittering chandeliers, replaced by the heavy, echoing quiet of the gallery's private wing. A tall, silent gallery steward dressed in a sharp black uniform led the way, his stride perfectly measured. At the end of the corridor, he pushed open a pair of double mahogany doors to reveal a secluded, dimly lit cigar lounge reserved strictly for the museum’s highest-tier trustees. The room was soundproof, lined with rows of ancient leather-bound books and thick with the faint, rich scent of cedar and aged tobacco.Rony followed close behind, his shoulder tightly supporting Arthur. The old patriarch looked completely defeated, his breathing ragged as his hand clutched his rapidly swelling jaw. Rony carefully guided Arthur into a deep, plush armchair in the corner, ensuring his boss was stable before stepping back.Tedmond moved to the center of the room. Without sparing a glance at Arthur, he smoothly unbuttoned his tu