The atmosphere in the grand ballroom of the Livingston Manor shifted from festive opulence to a jagged, predatory tension. Logan Livingston, his face contorted in a sneer that mirrored his mother’s, didn't back down despite his father’s warning. He adjusted the lapels of his designer tuxedo, stepping into Liam’s personal space with the unearned confidence of a man who had never known hunger.
"Honestly, Dad, I think you’re the one who’s had a few too many," Logan remarked, his voice carrying a sharp, mocking edge that echoed through the silent hall. He turned his gaze toward Samuel Livingston, who stood rigid, his face a mask of restrained dignity. "And as for you, Uncle Samuel... I really have to wonder. You and Aunt June are at an age where you should be retired and relaxing, yet here yo
