While Don spent the better part of the night beneath Santos City discussing strategy inside the Citadel, Miss Claire remained blissfully unaware of his whereabouts.
She had retired instead to her study, where silence settled comfortably around her.
A mug of freshly brewed coffee rested beside her laptop, delicate ribbons of steam curling upward as the faint crackle of the fireplace filled the room.
Warm amber light danced across polished wooden shelves lined with hundreds of carefully arranged books, lending the study its familiar atmosphere of quiet refinement.
Displayed across her laptop screen was a secure video connection.
Madam Raven sat exactly as she always seemed to—in the same distinguished office Don had previously seen, her posture impeccably straight despite her advanced years.
A porcelain teacup rested upon its matching saucer before her, one gloved hand lightly stirring the tea as though every movement had been practiced over decades.
