The silence in the study was so thick it seemed to smother her breath. The leather armchair, the oak desk, the books lining the walls—all of it seemed to close in on her as she stared at the slim white envelope lying on the polished wood.
Her fingers trembled when she touched it.
"Open it," he said. His voice was low, rougher than usual. He leaned against the edge of the desk, his arms crossed. It wasn't the Don's usual commanding stance—this time he looked almost… uncertain.
She swallowed, trying to steady her voice. "You could have told me what this was."
"I wanted you to see it yourself. No words of mine would've been enough."
Her eyes flicked to his. "You knew what it would say."
"I suspected. Now we'll know."
