"Isabelle Sinclair."
The room fell silent.
Not because anyone immediately recognized the name.
But because of the way Cassandra said it.
Carefully.
Like she was handling something fragile.
Something dangerous.
Victor looked between everyone.
Then frowned.
"Am I supposed to know who that is?"
"No," Elena answered.
"Okay."
A pause.
"Good."
Nobody acknowledged him.
Cassandra remained seated, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond the room.
Lost in memories decades old.
Camille studied her carefully.
Because she had rarely seen Cassandra hesitate before speaking.
And tonight
she had hesitated more than once.
That alone made this important.
Dante leaned forward slightly.
"What made her dangerous?"
The question brought Cassandra back to the present.
She looked at him.
Then at Camille.
Then slowly exhaled.
"She wasn't dangerous in the way most people think."
Silence.
"She wasn't ruthless."
Another pause.
"She wasn't cruel."
Victor frowned.
