The air in the manor was thick with tension. Mikhail stood near the fireplace, his arms crossed, watching as their father paced back and forth. Gino had always been a patient man, but tonight, something in his demeanor was different. His movements were sharp, restless. Every few seconds, his fingers twitched at his sides, like he wanted to reach for a weapon that wasn’t there.
Makayla leaned against the dining table, her nails tapping against the polished wood. “So, we’re really doing this?” Her tone was light, but there was an undercurrent of excitement beneath it.
Celine sat at the head of the table, her posture as poised as ever, but her eyes were darker than usual, troubled. “There is no other option,” she said simply.
Mikhail ran a hand through his hair. “There’s always another opt
