A table set for conflict

The next day arrived quietly at the Bellandi mansion, slipping in without ceremony, as though nothing had changed. Morning light filtered through tall windows, brushing against heavy curtains, pretending peace still lived within those walls—even when everything beneath it had shifted.

For Soren, the night had barely ended.

Soren lay awake long before the house stirred.

This was not his home. Not really.

The last time he had woken beneath a roof that truly felt his own, was some days ago. That was when he had told Evelyn that the next phase of their plan was just starting. He remembered telling her that their next plan would begin soon. That things would change. That patience, for now, was everything.

Now, patience was the only thing he seemed to be drowning in.

He stared at the ceiling, hands folded behind his head, thoughts circling endlessly. Being back in his family's mansion felt like stepping into an old role he had already outgrown. Here, he was not the man who made decisions wi