Damian's POV
The window Eve had named was three days wide.
Maybe four.
Malachai had pulled the filing. Lost Callum as an asset. Was regrouping somewhere behind the warmth and the patience and the two hundred years of knowing how to absorb a loss without showing it.
Three days before he found the next angle.
Maybe four.
Damian wasn't going to waste them.
He called everyone together at eight in the morning.
Not just his brothers. Not just Eve.
Vessa too was there, She made it to the estate by afrernoon.
She walked into the estate like she'd been walking into it for years and looked around the entrance hall.
"You have his taste," she said to Damian. Looking at the stonework. The high ceilings.
"My father's," Damian said.
"Yes," she said. Simply.
He led her to the study.
They assembled around the long table.
Damian at the head. Eve to his left. Silas to his right. Damon beside Eve. Vessa at the far end.
