Victor didn't wait for Elias to answer.
He simply turned, carrying him as if his weight were nothing, his stride smooth and deliberate as he left the greenhouse behind without a glance at the lingering tremor in the air. The door opened for him before his free hand even touched it, Adam was still there, but now his gaze flicked briefly to Elias, reading more than either of them said aloud.
"Adam," Victor said, voice even, unhurried. "No one comes in today. No calls. No meetings. Not unless I ask for it."
"Yes, sir," Adam replied, stepping back without another word.
The door shut behind them, sealing the greenhouse and the morning's battle in silence. The sound of it closing seemed to strip away the last thread of Jonathan Clarke's presence, leaving only the muted hush of the manor's upper hall. Here, light fell softer, dimmed by heavy curtains and gold-leaf cornices; the air was warmer, quieter, as if the walls themselves understood the necessity of holding the moment intact.
