The thought burned in Viviana's chest, and she slammed her fists against the cell door. "I demand to see my son!" she shouted, her voice echoing down the corridor. "Do you anyone bhear me? Bring him to me at once!"
Her outburst drew the attention of one of the guards stationed nearby, a broad-shouldered man with a gruff expression. He approached her cell, his heavy boots echoing ominously on the stone floor.
"You need to quiet down, my lady," the guard said, his tone laced with irritation. "You're disturbing the others."
Viviana's eyes blazed with fury. "Do you know who I am? I am Lady Viviana of the Whittemore family! How dare you speak to me like that?"
The guard crossed his arms, unfazed by her indignation. "And I'm the one that is going to make sure you behave. If you keep shouting, I'll have no choice but to gag you."
Viviana let out a sharp laugh, her disbelief evident. "You wouldn't dare."
