The room at Logan Specter’s estate was the same as before—high ceilings, dark wood panels, expensive taste masked as tradition—but the atmosphere was nothing like it had been days earlier.
It vibrated.
Low conversations overlapped each other, voices hushed yet sharp with curiosity, speculation passing from one cluster to another like wildfire. Glasses clinked softly, chairs scraped against the floor, and every single person in the room kept glancing toward the doors, again and again.
The daughters.
“I heard they refused to come the previous times,” someone whispered near the fireplace.
“Yes,” another replied, leaning closer. “Imagine that… Logan Specter, with two daughters no one knew about.”
“I hope they show up,” a woman murmured, her tone laced with morbid curiosity. “Otherwise th
