Gregory didn’t knock.
He walked straight in.
The moment Gregory’s footsteps came closer, Magnus opened his eyes without moving his head.
They landed on Gregory immediately, following him in silence as he approached.
“Look at your eyes,” Gregory said, frowning as he dragged a chair across from the desk. The legs scraped loudly against the floor before he dropped into it. “What happened to you? Didn’t you sleep at all last night?”
Magnus’s brows pulled together slightly. He didn’t answer the question.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
His voice was low, hoarse, threaded with impatience.
Gregory exhaled and leaned back in the chair, running a hand through his hair. “I came for you, obviously.” He leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. “I traced the information on her cards. Tried to see if someone else was involved with Violet.”
Magnus’s fingers stopped tapping.
“And?” he asked flatly.
Gregory’s expression shifted. “Turns out your hunch was right.”
Magnus moved.
The chair creaked softly as he straightened, eyes narrowing. “Who?”
Gregory rubbed his jaw. “Whoever it was, they cleaned things up fast. By the time I got there, the trail had already been erased.”
The air in the room turned cold.
“But the origin point?” he continued. “The timing. The routing. It came from the Thompsons.”
He met Magnus’s eyes.
“And in the Thompson family,” Gregory continued carefully, “there’s only one person who has enough connection and stupidity to offend you like this.”
Magnus’s jaw tightened.
“Celia?” he asked quietly.
His eyes darkened as the name left his lips.
“Yes,” Gregory confirmed.
For a moment, silence stretched between them.
Magnus’s knuckles turned pale as his fingers curled against the desk. A muscle ticked in his jaw.
“She’s bold,” Gregory muttered.
Magnus let out a low, humorless laugh.
“Bold?” he repeated under his breath.
He leaned forward slightly, voice turning icy. “Find out. I want evidence that will keep her in prison long enough to regret being born.”
His gaze turned murderous.
