The same afternoon, the atmosphere inside the private conference hall of the Cross estate carried the kind of tension that expensive architecture could not soften.
The room itself looked immaculate.
Victor Cross sat at the head of the table with calm authority, one hand resting lightly against the leather armchair while several reports remained open before him. Even in silence, his presence alone controlled the atmosphere naturally.
Across from him sat Mr. and Mrs. Hart.
Miranda remained beside her parents, posture elegant and composed, though the slight tension visible in her shoulders betrayed the pressure hidden beneath her calm appearance.
Only one seat remained empty.
Adrian's.
Victor glanced briefly toward the clock mounted quietly against the wall before speaking.
"He's late."
Mrs. Hart gave a polite smile.
"I'm sure he'll be here shortly."
Victor did not respond immediately.
