Alexander stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the city lights that spread across the night like a silent kingdom that had forgotten who truly held control over it, and his expression remained calm as though everything beneath him already belonged to his judgment.
“The Lancasters,” he said quietly while his eyes narrowed, “never seem to learn from their own history.”
Reginald was already dead, and yet even after his fall, the influence of his family continued to spread in different directions as though his death had not weakened them but instead encouraged them to push forward even more aggressively.
A faint and cold smile formed on Alexander’s face as he continued to watch the city in silence, showing no emotion other than quiet certainty.
“Ambition without real s
