Landen POV
I stand on the elevated platform, a round dais with my arms outstretched like a king soaking in the adoration of his people. Two tailors flurry around me to ensure nothing is out of place. Draped in pristine white—a custom-tailored shirt, pressed trousers, and designer shoes—I keep my eyes fixed on the standing mirror, where my father's reflection paces behind me in his own immaculate ensemble.
"Luciano told me what you said—and you will apologize," he commands, his voice sharp enough to cut glass. "Not just for this offense, but for every slight since she entered your lives."
"Does it even matter?" I counter, my tone biting. "In less than twenty-four hours, she'll be out of it."
