CHAPTER 102 — THE QUIET WAR
The quiet was intentional.
Elena recognized it the moment she woke—too clean, too deliberate. The kind of silence that didn't signal peace but preparation. It pressed against the walls of the estate, settled into corners, lingered between breaths. Even the air felt measured, as if every sound had been weighed and found unnecessary.
The estate moved with muted efficiency. Staff footsteps were careful, conversations lowered, doors closed with controlled precision. No one rushed. No one lingered. It was the behavior of people who understood that attention, even accidental, could be dangerous.
This was not recovery.
This was recalibration.
Elena rose without hesitation. She dressed herself, bypassing the wardrobe of softer colors she once favored. Today, she chose darker tones—not for symbolism, not for intimidation, but for clarity. There would be no distractions. No softness mistaken for weakness. The day ahead would demand exactness, not comfort.
