I watched as Naomi left with her daughter, Erica, guided by Alex, their footsteps fading as the ward settled into a tense silence that pressed against my senses like an unseen weight. The air still carried traces of shifting emotions—dominance, frustration, and something close to desperation—lingering like unsettled pack energy that refused to dissipate.
I poured a glass of water for Francis and placed it within his reach before sitting beside him, steadying my breathing as I tried to keep my instincts aligned with calm rather than reaction. His presence, though weakened, still held the gravity of an Alpha figure struggling to maintain control over a collapsing situation.
"Anastasia," he said after a moment, his voice lower now, stripped of earlier tension. "I agree with Naomi's suggestion. I want you to ask Young Master Elliot to help stabilize the company."
