Elder Elias stood in his dimly lit study, a sneer twisting his lips as he replayed the events of the day in his mind. His jaw clenched, his grip tightening around his glass. The nerve Freya had to defy him—in front of Emilia. The mere thought of it sent rage boiling through his veins. Freya’s disobedience wasn’t just an affront; it was a warning sign. She was slipping through his fingers, and Elias knew exactly who to blame.

Emilia, he thought bitterly. She was a thorn he’d underestimated. Somehow, she had poisoned Freya against him, undermining years of carefully enforced loyalty. He’d watched her influence grow stronger, slowly but surely...