"Let's go," Cross said curtly, his voice as cold and sharp as morning frost. Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

Marceline stood frozen for a moment, her brows furrowed in confusion. His mood had shifted like a sudden thunderclap in a clear sky, and she was still reeling from the intensity of the earlier confrontation. With a sigh, she followed him, her heels clicking softly against the polished floors.

"I should at least greet Grandmother before we leave," she said hesitantly, hoping to salvage a sliver of courtesy amidst the chaos.

Cross halted and spun around to face her, his...