Silver sobbed against Lorenzo's chest, her small frame trembling in his embrace. He held her tighter, whispering nothing but quiet reassurances, letting her cry until she had exhausted herself.
Noah and Abraham walked over, their usual teasing demeanor replaced by quiet concern. Noah patted her back awkwardly, while Abraham squeezed her shoulder.
"You're not alone, Silver," Abraham murmured.
She sniffled but said nothing, just clutched Lorenzo's shirt tighter.
Minutes passed, and her breathing slowed. Her grip loosened. She had finally cried herself to sleep, her face buried in Lorenzo's warmth.
Henry sighed, running a hand through his hair before calling a maid to clean up the dining room. Shattered plates, spilled food, and broken glasses littered the space. The chaos of Silver's breakdown.
But the real mess wasn't just the room.
It was the war that had begun.
