The grand hall of the Whittemore Estate was eerily quiet, the tension thick enough to cut with a blade. Every member of the estate staff had been summoned, groundskeepers, maids, butlers, cooks, and even the stable hands. They stood in neat rows, their faces a mixture of confusion and apprehension. Whispers had already begun circulating among them about Lady Viviana's arrest earlier that day. No one knew the full details, but the sight of royal guards and the crown prince escorting her away had sent ripples of unease through the household.
At the head of the room stood Lord Marius Whittemore, his face grave and his usual air of quiet authority more pronounced than ever. The weight of what had transpired bore down heavily on him, and though he tried to maintain his composure, the faint lines of worry etched across his face betrayed his inner turmoil.
He cleared his throat, and the murmurs among the staff immediately ceased. All eyes were on him now.