The hall responded immediately to Emilia's presence. Voices rose in respectful greeting—some in English, others in various languages. People bowed slightly, acknowledging her status.

  Leon remained on the ground, face pressed against the marble floor by the guards restraining him. He couldn't see Emilia, and she couldn't see him.

  Emilia descended the stairs with measured steps, flanked by Remeria family bodyguards. Her expression remained neutral as she reached the main floor.

  "What has occurred here?" she asked, her voice carrying clearly.

  Arnold Clomen stepped forward, grief and rage still evident on his face despite his efforts at composure. "My son. My Lucas. This—this boy killed him." His voice cracked slightly. "He's dead. My only son is dead."

  Emilia already knew. The guards had informed her on her way to the hall. But she listened as Arnold continued.

  "I want justice. I will have justice. That boy's life, his family—everything connected to him will pay for what he's done."

  "Let me see him," Emilia said.

  The guards holding Leon hesitated, then pulled him upright, forcing him to face Emilia.

  For a moment, Emilia's neutral expression shifted. Surprise flickered across her face. She recognized him.

  Then her composure returned.

  "You're certain it was this boy?" she asked Arnold. "You have proof?"

  "The guards heard him confess. He admitted it himself."

  The lead guard nodded. "He said he hit Lucas. He was apologizing for it when we arrived."

  Emilia studied Leon for a long moment. This complicated things considerably. She knew exactly who he was.

  "And I will make sure everyone connected to this boy suffers," Arnold continued, his voice growing harder. "His family, anyone who knows him—"

  "Mind your words." Emilia's tone was sharp, authoritative.

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  Arnold actually flinched. Around them, people shifted uncomfortably. Even the Prime Minister of Yemen looked startled.

  "No action will be taken," Emilia continued, "until Lady Iris arrives and assesses the situation herself."

  The hall erupted in whispers. Lady Iris. She was coming here. This situation had escalated beyond anyone's expectations.

  Arnold's fear was visible, but his grief overrode it. He stepped forward again, keeping his voice respectful but insistent.

  "With all due respect to Lady Iris, this is a clear case. My son is dead. This boy killed him. I'm asking—begging—for justice now. Let me have what I'm owed."

  He was getting emotional now, his composure cracking. "My son. My only son. Please."

  The Prime Minister of Yemen moved to stand beside him. "Arnold is right. This is straightforward. The boy confessed. Justice should be swift."

  Several others joined them—business partners of the Clomen family, all powerful figures in their own right. They formed a united front, all voicing support for immediate action.

  "The boy should pay now."

  "Why wait? It's obvious what happened."

  "Justice delayed is justice denied."

  The pressure in the room built. More voices joined. The crowd was beginning to sway toward Arnold's side.

  Emilia stood calmly, listening but taking no action. Her face showed nothing.

  Arnold seemed to sense momentum shifting his way. "Please. I just want—"

  The doors opened.

  Military soldiers entered in formation, their movements precise and coordinated. They didn't replace the bodyguards immediately—just took positions throughout the hall, their presence unmistakable.

  Emilia's voice cut through the murmurs. "Lady Iris has arrived."

  Silence fell instantly. Complete, absolute silence.

  The energy in the room transformed. Whatever power dynamics had existed moments before were suddenly irrelevant. Presidents, business magnates, influential families—all of them felt it. The weight of her presence before she'd even entered.

  Then Iris walked in.

  Her entrance was formal, measured. She wore a simple but elegant dress, dark and perfectly tailored. Her expression was composed, unreadable. But there was something in the way she carried herself—an absolute certainty, a presence that made everyone in the room acutely aware of the hierarchy.

  Every person in the hall bowed. Some deeply, some slightly, but everyone acknowledged her.

  The pressure was tangible. Even standing still, even silent, Iris commanded the space completely.

  Emilia approached and bowed. "Lady Iris. Welcome."

  Iris's gaze swept across the hall, taking in the scene. The bodyguards. The Clomen family. The stretcher with Lucas's body. Something had happened, clearly.

  "What is this?" she asked.

  Emilia spoke quietly, professionally. "There's been an incident. Lucas Clomen, son of Arnold Clomen, is deceased. The perpetrator has been identified and restrained."

  "I see."

  Emilia continued explaining—the details, the confession, the family's demands for justice. She kept her report factual, clinical. She didn't mention Leon's name.

  Iris listened without interrupting. Then her eyes moved across the hall, cataloging everyone present, understanding the dynamics at play.

  Her gaze landed on the boy being held by guards in the center of the room.

  She saw him.

  Leon, restrained on his knees, blood on his hands, looking utterly destroyed.

  Iris's expression didn't change.