The night should have ended at the gala, but it followed him home like something unfinished. The mansion stood in silence, vast and obedient, every light exactly where it should be, every shadow undisturbed. It was the kind of order Victor built his life on. Predictable. Controlled. Untouched.He walked past the main hall without slowing, his steps measured, his expression blank. The storm from earlier had long passed, but the faint scent of rain still lingered in the air. It should have been calming. It wasn’t.Instead of going to his room, he turned toward his study. The door opened with a quiet click, and the dim light inside flickered on, revealing the polished desk, the leather chair, and the file.It sat there exactly as it had yesterday, unopened, untouched, waiting. Victor walked forward and pulled the chair back. He sat down slowly, his movements deliberate, controlled. His hand rested on the file before he opened it.Page after page flipped beneath his fingers, each detail
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