The grand dining hall at Nathaniel's estate gleamed with luxury, chandeliers casting golden light over the long, polished table. A fire crackled in the hearth, the air thick with the scent of roasted meats and fine wine.
Conversation dwindled into silence as the doors opened—and Evelyn stepped inside.
Draped in dark emerald silk, she moved with measured grace, her gaze lowered in the perfect imitation of demure submission. Nathaniel's hand rested firmly on her back—not tender, not cruel. Merely possessive.
All eyes turned to them as they approached the head of the table.
"I trust everyone is prepared for tonight's discussion?" Nathaniel's deep voice broke the stillness. Beneath its calm was an undercurrent of authority that silenced even the most subtle whispers.
The room was full of the Empire's architects—those who shaped its policies, controlled its secrets. Evelyn's heart thudded beneath her composed expression as she quietly took stock of each figure.
