Dorian walked down the corridor toward the private bedroom. He was only summoned there when he had crossed a line.
The servants understood the meaning of that.
As he entered, the maids and attendants quietly slipped out, closing the doors behind them.
Edward Blackwood sat in an armchair near the window. A machine beside him beeped steadily. A tube ran from the device into the vein in his wrist.
Dorian's gaze flickered to it.
He had never understood that.
Edward had no kidney failure. No diagnosed condition that required dialysis. Yet every so often, he would connect himself to machines… draining blood, replacing blood, undergoing procedures that made no medical sense.
It had always been strange.
But questioning Edward Blackwood was not something anyone in the family dared to do.
"It appears," Edward said calmly, without looking at him, "that you were very busy yesterday."
Dorian said nothing.
Silence stretched across the room.
Then, suddenly—
Edward stood.
