Ronan Fordham and Faye Fordham stood by in attendance, both wearing extremely solemn expressions.
After briefly scanning the contents of the newspaper to grasp the current situation in Portmire, Julian Winslow set it aside. He picked up the teacup from the nearby table and took a shallow sip. His posture was upright and elegant, like a nobleman straight out of the Middle Ages.
The room was completely silent. The quietness was so oppressive that Faye wanted to run away.
Just then, Julian suddenly called out, "Faye..."
It was a very affectionate form of address, yet it sent a severe chill down Faye's spine. For some unknown reason, she had been afraid of this seemingly gentle man ever since she was a child. He was even more intimidating than her oldest brother.
Hearing him, Faye became even more solemn. She stood at attention like a soldier. "Mr. Winslow, what are your orders?"
