"I see how you look at her, Gillian. Do not think for a moment that your pathetic sentimentality goes unnoticed by those who truly matter."
Klara stood at the entrance of the dining room, her voice a sharp blade cutting through the heavy silence of the evening. The air inside the manor felt thick, the familiar scent of old wood and metallic security measures now tainted by a suffocating tension. Gillian did not look up from his plate. He continued to cut his meal with deliberate, measured motions, his face a mask of iron. Across the table, Ghea sat perfectly still, her eyes fixed on the tablecloth, her fingers trembling ever so slightly as they rested beside her glass.
Gillian had made a choice that evening. He had directed Ghea to sit closer to him, ignoring the standard protocol tha
