Rosalind did not knock.
She pushed the study doors open so hard they struck the wall with a sharp bang, the sound cracking through the quiet of the Blake estate like a gunshot.
Elias Blake did not flinch.
He sat behind his desk, hands folded neatly atop a stack of documents, the soft glow of the desk lamp casting long shadows across the room. The same room where decisions had been made for decades, decisions that built empires and destroyed bloodlines.
Rosalind slammed the door shut behind her.
"Did you see what your good grandson has done?" she demanded, her voice sharp with fury barely held in check. "You haven't even handed him power yet, and he's already ruling over you. Over all of us."
Elias lifted his gaze slowly.
"What happens," Rosalind continued, pacing now, heels striking the marble floor with agitation, "when he actually has power? When you place the Blake Conglomerate in his hands? When he no longer needs your permission to act?"
