?Chapter 948:


    “Important?” Brannon’sugh was a cold, sharp slice through the room. “Nonsense! Get out! Can’t you see I have a VIP here?”


    Robert nced at Andromache, then wordlessly turned and left.


    Andromache set her cup down, the porcin clinking softly. “You’d better check it out,” she said, her voice calm but carrying an undeniable weight. “My nephew is not known for his patience.”


    A chill settled over Brannon’s features. He had heard of Nate, Andromache’s nephew—a man whose name alonemanded respect.


    Despite his youth, he had taken the reins of the Hopkins family and earned even the Elder Council’s wary regard. His reputation for both brilliance and ruthlessness was well-deserved.


    Regrettably, Brannon had pledged allegiance to Andromache long ago. He forced a smile, studying her face for any sign of what might await him outside. “Should I go take a look?”


    Andromache remained stone-faced. “Go ahead.”


    Steeling himself, Brannon stepped out of the office—and froze. Nate was already there, nked by a small entourage.


    At his side, Corrine walked in step, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor.


    Her smaller strides were matched seamlessly by Nate’s long, deliberate ones. His every step was attuned to her pace. Behind them, Waldo moved with a quiet presence.


    His mere appearance was enough to unsettle anyone who knew his reputation—a towering figure in the legal world, feared by even the most seasoned professionals.


    A knot tightened in Brannon’s stomach, but he quickly smoothed his expression. The evidence against Corrine was solid, he reminded himself. No matter who Nate brought along, she would not escape the charges. He smoothed a hand over his hair as he stered on a weing smile, scurrying forward to meet them. “Mr. Hopkins! What an honor. I didn’t expect you—my apologies for not preparing a proper wee.”


    Nate didn’t respond. His smoldering gaze grazed over Brannon with a chill so palpable, it felt as if he weren’t there at all.


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    Nate led the group into the conference room without a word. Brannon hesitated, calcting his next move. Then, he squared his shoulders and followed.


    Once everyone was seated, he took his time before pulling out a chair across from them. No sooner had he sat down than Nate’s gaze settled on him again. It was like staring into a bottomless well. The depth of those eyes sent a shiver along Brannon’s spine.


    “When did a deputy director start to call the shots at the police station?” Nate’s voice was smooth, but the calmness only amplified the threat beneath.


    Brannon cleared his throat. He forced himself to chuckle, a thin, reedy sound. “Mr. Hoffman is away on business, so I’m handling all matters in his absence.”


    His tone held a trace of arrogance, like a man ying king in a borrowed throne.


    Corrine remained silent, seemingly preupied with the way Nate’s fingers absently traced the back of her hand.


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