ROHAN

The hallways of the manor had never felt so cold. It wasn't just the lack of heating in the west wing; it was the way the walls seemed to breathe with the secrets of three generations.

I walked slowly, my cane clicking against the marble, each step a reminder of the physical and moral decay of the Callahan name. I had spent my life as the silent architect of this dynasty, but watching Kane crumble and Aria be carted off in handcuffs felt like watching the final pillars collapse.

I ...