Demien was the first to step into the luxurious yet cold atmosphere of Alec’s private cabin. The air inside was still sharp with the tension that Melissa had described moments ago. Alec was standing near the large glass window, hands behind his back, posture rigid like stone. His silhouette against the glass—flawless suit, sharp lines, unmoving—looked like a sculpture carved by rage.
Melissa followed closely behind Demien, her steps soft, uncertain. She paused near the door, not daring to move any closer than she had to. Alec turned slowly at the sound of the door closing, his gaze slicing straight through Demien.
“You may leave,” Alec said to the loyal aide who had been standing silently in the corner. His tone was calm, polite even—but it was the calm before a hurricane.
The aide didn
