The morning sun cut through the towering, arched windows of the Estate, casting long, sharp beams of gold across the polished floors. The air inside the grand sitting room was quiet, smelling of expensive white tea and freshly cut white roses. Geney Ford sat elegantly on a cream silk sofa, her posture straight and flawless, though her mind was still deeply unsettled by the shocking revelation Gloria had dropped on her the previous morning. She had barely slept, her thoughts constantly twisting around the terrifying name of Duron Thore and the absolute mess her plans had become.
The heavy, double doors of the sitting room swung open with a confident force.
