The hall had gone quiet. The tension clung to the walls like thick smoke.
The Grayson Matriarch stood tall, her wine glass untouched on the table. Her voice sliced through the silence like a dagger.
"Everyone here knows what the House of Grayson represents. We do not play with matters of legacy, blood, or honor. We are the spine of Velmor’s heritage." She turned slightly, allowing her words to pierce deep. "And yet—someone in this very room thought it wise to insult our house with something so… vile. So personal."
She took a step forward, eyes narrowing.
“Losing a child… no family deserves that kind of pain. And yet this—someone—decided to throw accusations as though our loss was a crime.”
A murmur rippled through the seated guests.
Then my father asked, “Who is this person you speak
