Inside the main hall, Salt family elders and core members gathered like wolves around a wounded stag. The patriarch, Vareon Salt, a man of towering presence with a frost-laden beard and sharp golden eyes—sat at the elevated head of the hall. His face, carved from centuries of pride and discipline, twisted slightly in restrained fury.
Phillip had barely crossed the threshold when Vareon's voice thundered across the marble chamber.
"Where have you been?"
The question was simple.
But behind it lay a mountain of implications—betrayal, recklessness, insubordination.
The silence that followed was more suffocating than his tone.
Phillip walked calmly to the center of the hall, pausing at the first step below the dais where his father sat.
"I went to the White family."
