Two of his personal guards stood near the balcony doors, their hands crossed in front of them.

Another guard sat on the arm of a leather sofa, scrolling through his phone.

“The docks are secured,” Tony was saying into a headset. “Tell the captain to move the ship.”

I pushed the mahogany doors open.

The hinges did not make a sound.

“The docks are not secured, Tony,” I said.

Tony froze.

He did not turn around immediately.

He took a slow sip from his glass, then set it down on the marble counter.

When he turned, his face was smooth, almost bored.

“Uncle,” Tony said. “You should be in bed.”

The guards moved instantly, their hands reaching under their jackets.

“Stand down,” I said, keeping my hands visible but near my coat.

“Do what he says,” Tony told his men. “He is an old man. Let him speak.”

The guards relaxed slightly, though their eyes remained fixed on me.

“You look tired,” Tony said, walking toward the center of the room. “You should have stayed at the estate.”

“I went to see Marcus,” I said.