The tension stretched their presence in the hallway into an awkward and silent moment. Stephen, unable to hide his anxiety, began to protest with a desperate plea about seeing Marshal's condition. "Please, we need to know what's happening to Father," he pleaded, taking a hesitant step toward the closed door.
It was Marco who gently but firmly, blocked his path. "Please, follow me," he said, his voice a huskier, more calmed counterpoint to his brother's urgency. He led them all away from the commotion in the corridor, ushering them toward the quiet space of the family's drawing-room.
Stephen couldn't contain his frustration as they settled in. He spun around, his eyes alight with worried expression. "Why? Why won't Father let us in? And you, Marco, why are you doing all that? What is inside that door?"
Marco turned to face him, his own posture stiff and weary. "That is not something you need to know."
