Vivienne watched Damien in silence for a moment longer, her arms now folded once more—not with disapproval, but with something quieter. More analytical. Not quite concern, not yet.
But something was stirring.
She turned her gaze from her son to the glowing tags again. Names hovering in the air like accepted terms on an unspoken contract. Kael. Renia. Lysa. Myla. Jaro. Each of them cataloged and vetted, yes—but by Damien. Not her. Not the family board. Not the Elford system.
And each one, in her eyes, carried a flag. Not red. Not yet.
But not green either.
Kael was efficient, capable, and physically imposing—but he operated like a blade waiting for a reason to swing. Someone like him could cut through bureaucracy, true… but he could also draw blood in the wrong room. Not every door needed kicking.
