The day Makoto Yori arrived, the mansion felt wrong, not louder and not quiet. Just calm, like the house itself sensed a shift in its balance, bracing for impact.Evelyn felt it at first.She stood in the new wing’s sitting room, fingertips grazing the cool glass of the window, pretending the morning sunlight eased the remnants of last night. It didn’t. Her skin still burned from Lucien’s near touch. Her pulse still jittered from his voice—low, lethal, close enough to taste.Quiet footsteps echoed down the corridor, not Lucien’s and not Damien’s. It was quiet and precise. A sound she hadn’t heard in years.Evelyn stiffened, turning just as Damien appeared in the doorway. His expression was the same carved-stone neutrality he always wore, but something in his posture was sharper than usual. Like every muscle in his body was waiting.“Lucien has a guest,” Damien said.“Another arms dealer?” she asked, trying for lightness. It fell flat.“No.” A pause. “A representative.”He didn’t n
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