Victor sat comfortably in Clifford's office, warmly reminiscing about his childhood with Nanny T. Stacy, quietly listened as he painted scenes of laughter, discipline, and home-cooked meals. They shared a few soft chuckles.
But Clifford wasn't laughing.
He sat silently, eyes distant, completely lost in thought. The storm inside him was louder than the voices around him. His mind was locked on one question: Family or loyalty?
And then, without warning, he made a choice.
His son came first.
He looked up at Victor and gave a subtle nod toward the door—his signal. Victor, sensing the change in his eyes, stood up without hesitation.
He already knew Britney's visit wasn't casual. The tension in the room was thick the moment she arrived, and nothing about her energy had felt innocent. If trouble was coming, he wanted to face it head-on.
Outside Clifford's office, Clifford turned to him with a tight voice. "Victor… I need to speak to you. Privately. Can we use your office?"
