Iyana stepped further into the foyer, her eyes scanning the room with calculated ease. The soft glow of the chandelier cast a warm light over the plush furniture and ornate decorations, starkly contrasting the tension simmering beneath the surface.
"Why don't we sit down?" Edward suggested as soon as he arrived, his voice attempting a semblance of authority, his face had a different story to tell.
In just four days of losing his title, her father's condition had taken a drastic toll.
His once vibrant complexion now appeared drained of all color, leaving his face a ghostly pallor. His cheeks had lost their usual fullness, emphasizing the weight he had rapidly shed. His eyes, once stern and commanding, now held a weary, distant gaze, betraying the toll his illness had taken on both body and spirit.
Iyana could easily guess what Vyan would have said if he had been here: your father has been humbled.
