The heavy, mahogany doors of the Hobbs villa seemed to groan under the weight of the unspoken tension. Inside, the core members of the family exchanged uneasy glances, silent as statues as they processed the reality of Allen Morgan's return. They were a family built on optics and precarious social climbing, and the shift in the air was palpable.
Finally, Peter Hobbs broke the silence. His voice was a low, gravelly rasp that signaled the beginning of a formal interrogation. "Allen," he said, leaning forward until the gold buttons of his blazer strained against his chest. "I trust you haven't forgotten the covenant you entered into exactly one year ago?"
Allen leaned against a fluted marble pillar, his posture relaxed, almost liquid. "I remember every word, Peter. In thirty days, I return
