Mervyn's brow lifted ever so slightly. Confusion flickered for a moment, only to melt into understanding as the noble's intention became clear.
"Oh, she'll definitely need one to clean up that disaster," he replied, a faint curl of disdain tugging at his lips. A sly glint settled in his eyes, confidence returning like a blade sliding smoothly back into place. "Perhaps I should suggest she collaborate with your brand."
He said it with a tilted smile—poised, arrogant, and dangerous in all the ways the noble seemed to hope for.
Just as the noble Omega parted his lips to thank him, the lively chatter in the inner court abruptly died.
Everyone rose at once.
Madam Beckett had entered.
Her steps were slow, graceful, and absolute—cutting through the sprawling garden like a blade as all the nobles bowed their heads.
Graceful, imposing, she walked past the noble partners and their bowed heads, her steps echoing beneath the marble gazebo as if the whole court bent to her presence.
