The sisters of the Order stood stiffly, their faces pale and their postures tense.
Every word Cassius had spoken had been true, and it stung. They knew it.
They had searched for weeks and all of it had led nowhere.
Not one accusation stuck. Not one soul had dared claim that Cassius Holyfield had wronged them.
Every lead they chased came back with glowing words about his charm, his generosity, his impossible kindness.
The sisters could still remember villagers smiling as they spoke of him, women gushing about how he treated them like royalty, and even priests murmuring that perhaps he was 'blessed by fortune itself.'
It was maddening.
But none were more shaken than Stella.
She had seen the documents herself. She had seen the reports Joy had collected over the last month—and then she had seen his version of it.
Lucius had casually walked up to her just now, handed her a small bundle of papers with that bright, too-innocent smile, and said,
