Presidential Suite, Laurel Heights Hotel — Stonehaven, just outside the Laurel Creek Region
Fresh from the shower, Dorian stood by the window in nothing but a bathrobe, city lights glinting against the glass.
His phone screen glowed.
7 missed calls: Grandfather.
Of course. He scoffed.
He walked to the table leisurely, lit a cigarette, inhaled slowly, sat on the chair overlooking the cityscape, and then finally returned the call. It connected on the first ring.
"Where are you?" Edward Blackwood barked; no greeting, just fury.
Dorian didn't answer. He crossed one leg over the other, leaned back into the chair, and exhaled smoke toward the ceiling.
"I told you not to pursue that ranch piglet," Edward continued, voice rising. "Yet you went to meet her brother. You skipped the meetings I ordered you to attend!"
Silence.
"Answer me!"
The shouting tipped into coughing.
Dorian tapped ash into the tray. Calm. Unbothered.
