The words echoed in his mind, sending a chill down his spine.
He had spent months believing she was just a puppet forced into this arrangement. But she had just admitted she wanted this.
Alaric looked down at his phone, thinking about the secret files sitting on his laptop. Suddenly, his investigation into her past didn't just feel like revenge anymore.
It felt like a matter of survival.
The private cigar lounge was thick with tension.
Edward Williams sat in the heavy leather armchair, his hands folded over the head of his cane. His expression was completely unreadable. Cold. Professional.
Opposite him stood Alaric, his posture rigid.
"I am still looking into her past engagements," Alaric said, his voice dropping into a dark, steady rhythm. "The deeper I dig, the more anomalies I find. The media calls her a siren, but the financial records show calculated destruction."
Edward didn't even blink. He tapped his cane once against the floor.
