Cross chuckled, the sound low and cold as it echoed through the cavernous study. His figure leaned back against the plush leather chair like a king surveying his court—a cruel, calculating monarch basking in his dominion.

Marceline stood stiffly across from him, her arms folded tightly across her chest as though trying to hold herself together. Her jaw clenched. “Do you find this amusing?” she asked, voice trembling beneath the weight of fury she refused to unleash. “Do you think I can’t do it?”

Cross’s lips curled into a mocking smirk, his eyes glinting with condescension. “Well,” he drawled slowly, “I would really love to see you try, darling.”

The...