The parlor of the Bishop Manor was a battlefield of subtext. While Jane Bishop busied herself with the final details of the feast, Old Mrs. Grayson sat like a serene empress, her eyes sharp despite her warm smile. She knew perfectly well that Xavier had been at home, not the office—she had seen him pacing the halls before she left.
"Waiting at the office?" Old Mrs. Grayson chuckled, her voice like velvet. "I called him before I came. He said he was just... waiting. I suspect, dear, he was simply waiting for your call."
Chloe Bishop maintained a practiced, polite smile. She neither confirmed nor denied the statement, treating it as a pleasant fiction. She knew the truth of their "romance" was written in the cold stone of a dungeon floor. Even if the Matriarch meant well, trying to paint a
