Chapter 123 The Unwanted Heir

The mahogany-paneled study was deathly quiet, save for the persistent ticking of the brass wall clock above the fireplace. Silas stood by the window, his broad shoulders stiff beneath his black linen shirt, the tension in his frame near volcanic. Outside, the storm had passed, but the air still bristled with leftover static, as though the world had overheard the whisper Genevieve had dropped hours ago and recoiled in stunned silence. She watched him from across the room, arms crossed, her posture guarded yet grounded. “You haven’t said a word since I told you,” she said carefully.