The sprawling Arventine estate was unnaturally quiet when Zeraida heard a sudden crash echo through the lower level. She glanced at the digital clock resting beside her bed, watching the numbers illuminate the darkened room.
It was precisely 1:47 a.m.
Zeraida set aside the television script she had been reviewing, sliding her feet into her slippers before stepping out into the cold corridor. Another dull impact echoed from below, followed by the faint sound of glass shattering against tile.
She descended the main staircase cautiously, her hand skimming the smooth wooden railing.
"Xaviere?" she called out quietly into the shadows.
He stood near the grand foyer table, one hand gripping its marble edge so tightly that his skin looked completely pale. His silk tie hung loose around his unbuttoned collar, his dark hair disheveled over his forehead, and his usual posture entirely compromised.
