The Dynamite estate was quiet in the way only old wealth could afford to be. No noise, no rush, just space and silence polished to perfection. Afternoon light filtered through tall windows, casting pale gold across the marble floors of the sitting room where Madam Dynamite sat with a porcelain teacup cradled between her palms.
Across from her, her husband stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back, posture rigid. Sir Dynamite did not sit when matters unsettled him. He preferred to stand, as though grounding himself against decisions he did not yet approve of. The name had been spoken barely ten minutes ago, yet it lingered in the room like a presence. Nara.
Madam Dynamite broke the silence first.
"So," she said calmly, lifting her cup. "This is the woman everyone seems to be circling."
Sie Dynamite did not turn. "Circling is generous. They're watching, measuring."
"Which usually means she's done something right."
That earned her a glance, sharp, assessing.
"You've reviewed the report," Sir Dynamite said. "Surely you understand why this concerns me."
Madam Dynamite set the cup down gently. "I understand why it interests you."
Sir Dynamite exhaled slowly, walking back toward the seating area. He picked up the thin folder resting on the table, flipping it open again as though the information might change if he looked hard enough.
"Nara," he read aloud, voice clipped. "No registered family, raised in an orphanage, educated through merit-based scholarships. Co-founder of H&M Events, independent, discreet and no scandals."
He closed the folder with a sharp snap.
"And no lineage," he finished.
Madam Dynamite tilted her head slightly. "Is that what unsettles you most?"
"It should unsettle you too," he replied. "Keigh is not an ordinary man. He doesn't get involved with people casually. If she's close enough for us to hear her name this often, then she's already inside the perimeter."
"And yet," Madam Dynamite said, her voice soft but firm, "she hasn't used his name once."
Sir Dynamite paused.
"That," she continued, "is precisely why she intrigues me."
Sir Dynamite scoffed lightly. "Or she's clever."
"She coordinated a royal ball," she countered. "One that diplomats praised for weeks. She didn't leak, didn't posture, didn't trade proximity for influence."
She leaned forward slightly, eyes sharp now. "If she were clever in the way you're implying, Honey, we would already be dealing with consequences."
Sir Dynamite studied his wife for a moment. His wife had always been perceptive, dangerously so. It was part of why he trusted her judgment, even when it contradicted his own.
"Keigh has never taken an interest in someone without reason," he said finally. "And reason matters when legacy is involved."
Madam Dynamite smiled faintly. "Legacy is not just bloodlines and alliances."
"It has been for generations."
"And generations before that," she replied smoothly, "people married for power and died empty."
That earned her a sharper look.
"You're growing sentimental," Sir Dynamite said.
"I'm growing observant."
She reached for the folder, opening it herself this time. Her gaze softened slightly as she scanned the pages, not the facts, but the gaps.
"Do you know what stands out to me?" she asked.
Sir Dynamite waited.
"There's nothing excessive here," she said.
"No ambition that overshoots her reach. No hunger for attention. No desperation."
She looked up at him. "Women who want what Keigh represents usually leave fingerprints everywhere."
Sir Dynamite folded his arms. "Or they know better."
She closed the folder gently. "You're assuming she's after him."
"And you're assuming she isn't."
"I'm assuming," she said carefully, "that a woman who built herself from nothing understands the cost of missteps. That kind of discipline doesn't come from manipulation. It comes from survival."
Sir Dynamite turned away again, jaw tight.
"She has no family," he said, as though repeating it might solidify the argument. "No roots, o one to hold accountable if things go wrong."
Madam Dynamite stood, crossing the room until she stood beside him at the window.
"Or," she said quietly, "no one to betray her."
He glanced at her, surprised despite himself.
Madam Dynamite met his gaze steadily. "You and I both know how often lineage fails to guarantee loyalty."
Silence stretched between them, heavier now.
Finally, he spoke. "Keigh has been… distant."
Madam Dynamite smiled faintly. "He's been focused."
"That worries me."
"It comforts me."
Sir Dynamite turned fully toward her. "You're prepared to welcome a woman whose past is an empty space?"
Madam Dynamite didn't hesitate. "I'm prepared to meet her."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only honest one."
She reached out, resting her hand lightly on his arm. "You raised a son who values discretion, integrity, and competence. If this woman embodies those things, shouldn't that matter?"
He looked away, conflicted.
"And if she doesn't?" he asked.
"Then Keigh will see it before we do."
Sir Dynamite studied his wife closely. "You're taking his side."
"I'm trusting him."
A quiet beat passed. Sir Dynamite sighed, the sound carrying years of command and caution.
"I won't forbid anything. Not yet."
Madam Dynamite nodded, unsurprised.
"But," he continued, "I want her past examined quietly and thoroughly."
Madam's expression remained calm. "Of course you do."
"If there's anything that could compromise him, us, i will intervene."
"I wouldn't expect otherwise."
He hesitated, then added, almost reluctantly, "Still… there's something unsettling about her."
Madam raised a brow. "Unsettling how?"
Sir Dynamite shook his head. "I can't place it. It's as if… someone like her doesn't appear by accident."
Madam Dynamite's lips curved into a knowing smile.
"People without names," she said softly, "often belong to stories unfinished."
Sir Dynamite frowned slightly. "You sound as though you believe there's more."
"I believe," she replied, "that life rarely leaves things unresolved without reason."
She turned back toward the table, gathering the folder. "I'll arrange to meet her."
Sir Dynamite stiffened. "Soon?"
"Yes."
"And if I'm right?"
Madam Dynamite paused at the doorway, glancing back at him.
"Then we'll deal with it together," she said calmly. "But until then, honey, don't mistake absence of lineage for absence of worth."
She left the room quietly, heels echoing softly down the corridor. Sir Dynamite remained by the window, staring out at the manicured grounds. For the first time in years, uncertainty tugged at him. Not the kind that came from market fluctuations or hostile takeovers, but something far more unsettling.
A woman with no past, a son who had never been careless and a future that suddenly refused to align neatly with tradition. Somewhere deep within the estate, decisions were already being set into motion, background checks initiated, inquiries made under layers of discretion.
Sir Dynamite did not yet know why, but he felt it in his bones. Whatever Nara was, she was not temporary and that made her dangerous.