"You have lost your mind, Maeva."Patriarch David Sterling's voice was a low, trembling vibration of thunderous fury. He stood shaking with rage, his gold-tipped cane trembling against the floor, while the surrounding board members sat frozen in shock.The grand banquet hall of the Sterling Manor remained locked in a suffocating, terrified silence. Nobody looked at their plates; every eye was fixed on the blood dripping from Maeva's hand, mixing with the dark red Pinot Noir pooling on the shattered mahogany table. Maeva didn't blink. Her chest rose and fell in slow, deliberate cycles, her gaze remaining locked on Sloane Laurent with a possessive, territorial fury that made the air in the room feel like dry ice."This dinner is adjourned," Maeva said, her voice dropping into a register of chilling, absolute authority.She didn't wait for her grandfather to speak. She turned on her heel and walked out of the room, her emerald-green dress brushing the mahogany chair. Marcus, her head of
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