Edward and Harun arrived at the southern pavilion of the Virellano residence, softly illuminated under warm, golden lights.
Edward stepped inside without haste.
Khalil—his brother-in-law—was already there.
And another man stood quietly by the window.
The man turned as Edward entered.
He was slightly taller than Edward, with a solid, well-built frame wrapped in an elegant suit without a single crease out of place.
His black hair was neatly slicked back, though a few strands of white had begun to show.
A pair of thin glasses rested on his face.
His gaze looked calm, almost weary at a glance—but there was sharpness beneath it. Authority. Vigilance. Seriousness.
"Mr. Edward Virellano. My apologies for disturbing you this late."
His voice was flat, yet carried an invisible pressure.
Edward approached, extending his hand for a handshake.
"Welcome to the Virellano residence," he replied, just as composed, just as commanding.
Their hands met.
