“Commissioner. Are you?...”Pierce’s voice remained professional. “You invited me here to investigate a warehouse breach. You said valuable files were accessed. Officer Simon Gallagher here is reviewing transport compliance connected to your agricultural operations. If one of those companies receives crude transport revenue, it is relevant.”Silas finally shifted in his chair. The movement was small, but everyone sensed it. Damon stopped talking at once.Silas folded his hands on the table. “Officer Simon Gallagher,” he said calmly, “you ask unusual questions.”Simon met his gaze. “I ask necessary ones.”Silas studied him for a long moment. “Necessary to whom?”“To the state.”Victor gave a quiet laugh. “The state now speaks through cheaply dressed compliance officers?”Simon did not look at him. “Sometimes it speaks through documents.”A faint crease appeared between Silas's brows before it disappeared again. It was so brief that most people in the room missed it, but Simon did not.

The door had barely closed behind Simon and Pierce when Marwick Estate stopped pretending to be polite.Damon slammed both hands on the table and turned on Silas. “Why did you let him leave? That cheap officer insulted us in our own house, and you allowed him to walk out like he had won.”Silas remained seated, his eyes still on the door. “Because killing a man in front of a police commissioner is untidy.”The room became colder. The managers and servants understood the meaning beneath his words. One by one, they lowered their eyes and stepped out without waiting to be dismissed. When the last servant closed the door, only Silas, Damon, Victor Hale, and Kong remained.Damon paced beside the table, his face red with anger. “That man Simon should have been dragged outside and beaten until he forgot the word crude.”Victor adjusted his jacket, but even he looked uneasy now. “Master Damon, he was not guessing. That question surely did not come from public records.”Damon turned sharply. “

Simon had barely walked away from Celeste and Isabella when the room gave him a better reason to dislike wealth without character.He moved toward the side of the main hall, where the music was softer and the crowd was thinner. Behind him, Celeste’s laughter still floated lightly through the air, but it no longer mattered. Simon had learned what he needed to learn. Some people judged poverty before they judged decency. Some smiled politely while allowing cruelty to stand beside them. He had seen enough of both kinds.He did not resent wealth itself. Simon had met generous billionaires and dishonest beggars. Money only made a person's true nature easier to see. Those who respected others before knowing their status usually continued to do so after discovering it. Those who worshipped wealth rarely changed, no matter how politely they smiled.Near the refreshment corridor, an elderly servant hurried forward with a silver tray balanced in both hands. She was around sixty, perhaps older,

Lady Eleanor’s speech ended beneath warm applause, and the hall slowly returned to its earlier noise.Guests rose from their seats and moved toward the refreshment tables. Servants carried trays of wine, pastries, roasted meat, and fruit arranged in careful rows. Businessmen returned to private discussions. Politicians smiled for photographs. Several donors spoke loudly enough for nearby people to hear how generous they planned to be.Simon remained near the back for a moment. His eyes followed Mrs. Agnes as she disappeared through the service corridor with a red mark still visible on her cheek. The sight stayed with him, even while the room pretended nothing unpleasant had happened.Simon quietly studied the faces around him. People who had witnessed Mrs. Agnes being slapped were now smiling over glasses of wine as though nothing had happened. The incident had already become an inconvenience rather than an injustice. That troubled Simon more than Nathan's temper. Cruelty survived

Simon slowly raised his eyes and met Nathan’s stare without a trace of embarrassment. Around them, the refreshment area had grown quiet enough for every nearby guest to hear the answer Nathan was waiting for.“You have not answered me,” Nathan said, lifting his glass as though he were questioning a servant. “Who invited you?”Simon turned the stem of his wine glass between his fingers. “Does an invitation become less valid because of clothing?”Nathan stared at him for a second, then laughed loudly. His companions joined him at once, grateful that he had found another reason to continue the humiliation.“That is not an answer,” Nathan said. “It is the kind of clever sentence poor men use when they have nothing useful to say.”Simon remained calm. “Then perhaps you should ask a useful question.”A few guests reacted with quiet surprise. Nathan’s smile tightened, but he quickly hid his irritation beneath another laugh.“You still think this is a conversation between equals,” Nathan said