*Runze's POV*
"Turn it off."
Grandmother's voice is quiet. Neither sharp nor distressed, but final.
Bael's thumb presses against the remote. The television goes dark.
For a moment, nobody moves. The sudden silence feels almost unnatural after the relentless stream of news anchors, legal analysts, and bold red tickers dissecting our lives for the past hour. I stare at the black screen, wishing the world outside would freeze with it.
Grandmother lowers herself slowly into her armchair, her gaze locking onto Bael.
"I'll give you three days," she says calmly. "By the end of the week, I expect the narrative to turn. I don't care how many favors you burn through or which strings you pull, but the family name will not remain in the dirt."
Bael's expression remains steady. "Two days."
Grandmother looks at him for a long beat, measuring the calm confidence in his eyes, before offering a single, slight nod.
"Don't disappoint me."
