The medallion still rested in Rex's palm, gleaming faintly under the chandelier. Though silver by appearance, it felt far heavier than metal. It was history pressed into form, a family's weight condensed into a palm-sized crest.
Recognition. Trust. A crown disguised as gratitude.
Around the table, the Sterlings had grown quiet. They had given their reward. The ledger of gratitude was balanced. And for most houses of their stature, that would have been enough. The world of great families operated on debts and repayments… measured, careful, transactional. Gratitude could be formalized. Bonds could be symbolized. The matter could be closed.
Henry Sterling observed him with that same patient gravity that had defined the night. His gaze was sharp, but not unkind… assessing, yes, but also satisfied. Whatever questions he had entered this dinner with, they seemed answered now.
Vivienne was the one who finally broke the silence.
