His eyes followed her gaze, scanning the room. Congratulations. The word tasted bitter in his mouth. No one had celebrated his freedom when Fabian was alive. No one had looked at him like this—with expectation, with obligation. He had inherited wealth, power, and position, but there was no joy in it.

Jasmine tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. “You’re not going to sulk all night, are you?” She placed a hand on his arm, her fingers light but firm. “At least greet the guests. They ...