Inside the grand Londor estate, Mesuna sat in silence, reflecting on the whirlwind of events that had taken place earlier.
The soft clinking of a servant pouring wine brought her back to the present. Across the table, Duke Dante Ven Londor, her father, rested his chin on his clasped hands, his piercing gaze set firmly on her. The room carried a heavy silence, interrupted only by the occasional flicker of the candelabra.
"Dear," Dante began, his deep voice carrying an air of authority tinged with remorse. "I owe you an apology."
Mesuna blinked, surprised. "For what, Father?"
"For allowing that insolent fool to disrupt your event. It was meant to showcase your strength, your grace, your future—and instead, he made it into a spectacle," Dante said, his voice tightening. "Rest assured, I will bring him before you soon."
