Fray and Elisa sat across the table, their expressions unreadable—faces carved from stone. Across from them sat Rafael, a calm smile on his lips, and beside him, Livia, arms crossed, visibly annoyed.
"I've heard a lot about you," Rafael said, his tone light. "Both of you."
Fray didn't return the pleasantries. His voice was flat, cold. "You're here about Erma's disappearance, aren't you?"
He rose from his seat, already done with the conversation. But before turning away completely, he added quietly, "It wasn't me."
Rafael's smile faltered, replaced by a look of faint sorrow. "I know," he said softly. "I've got ears in the family too. I know Oliver and his mother took Erma… and Isabel."
Fray stopped mid-step. He turned back slowly, eyes sharp. "Then why are you here? Shouldn't you be out there rescuing her?" His gaze pierced through Rafael. "Isn't she one of your supporters?"
Before Rafael could speak, Livia slammed her hand on the table. "Isn't she your sister?!"
