Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)
Chapter 143 - 138: The project meeting (1)

Chapter 143: Chapter 138: The project meeting (1)

George leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. It was not exhaustion; it was focus, the kind a soldier needs before a battle.

Damian’s voice broke the silence first. Calm, measured.

"I requested the barrier from the imperial wizards a few days ago. It’s old magic, anchored into the chamber walls. There are only two rooms like this in the palace." He let that sit. "I don’t know how long you have, George. Once you leave this room, the influence might find you again."

George didn’t blink.

"I know," he said simply. "As long as Elliot’s near, it’s not over. He’s the channel. The voice Hadeon left behind."

His gaze was clear and steady, unaffected by the possibility that the leash might snap back at any time.

"I was already preparing for it," George continued. "Keeping Elliot away was the only window I had to act freely again."

Gabriel looked at him, his voice sharp but calm. "You knew?"

"I suspected," George said. "Not at first. But the gaps were too clean. My own decisions felt... foreign. Like someone was editing them behind my eyes." He looked down, then back at Damian. "But I knew one thing for certain. As long as Callahan was still alive, Hadeon wouldn’t risk losing his leverage."

Max’s brow furrowed. "So he’s still holding him."

George nodded once. "Alive. Hidden. Ready to be used again the moment I step out of line. It’s the only reason they haven’t killed him."

"Hadeon wouldn’t waste something so valuable," Anabelle murmured. "Not when it could be used to bring you back under."

"I will go alone," he said; no one asked where, because they already knew. George had been in a relationship with Callahan for decades, and Gabriel knew it was more than friendship or camaraderie.

Damian’s golden gaze flicked toward him, unblinking. "That’s not wise."

"No," George agreed. "It’s necessary." His green eyes shone with new determination.

Max shifted beside Gabriel, his eyes narrowing. "You’re not serious."

"I am," George said. "This isn’t a military campaign. Not yet. There’s no need to risk the throne, the Empire, or anyone’s blood. Not when I can still play the part they cast me in."

Gabriel’s gaze snapped to him. "You’d go back under?"

George smiled. That smile sent shivers down Gabriel and Max’s spines.

"I can pretend," he said. "A puppet that dances a little slower. A little clumsier. Enough to buy me what I need."

"You’re gambling," Damian said.

"I’m choosing," George countered. "If I go with an army, they’ll kill him the moment they sense a threat. However, they will keep him alive if I appear docile and blind as they anticipate.

A silence fell, thick and sharp.

Max stared at his uncle for a long second. "I know that smile."

Gabriel nodded once, eyes dark. "So do I."

When George Claymore destroyed rival businesses over breakfast and made them pay for the destruction, he wore the same smile—sharp as cut glass and twice as cold.

The smile indicated that someone is destiny had already been determined.

And Elliot Claymore’s time was running out. George had little regard for the man, but now that he had betrayed the Claymores and assisted Hadeon in removing Callahan, he saw no reason to keep him alive.

"I will save Callahan," George said. "And when I do, Elliot won’t be necessary anymore."

"George," Damian warned.

"I won’t make a scene," George said smoothly. "I’ll wait until the play is over."

The Emperor studied him in silence, then slowly nodded.

"Do it clean," Damian said at last.

George’s smile widened ever so slightly. "Always."

The barrier’s shimmer faded as air currents rippled through the room. The crystal pillars shined for a minute before returned to their opaque state.

The shift in the room was immediate, as though the air itself exhaled. The unsaid, the real, receded beneath polished masks and titles.

George Claymore was the first to realign himself with the expected world. He sat straighter, rolling down his sleeves with deliberate calm, green eyes flat and composed. His smile returned, polished, profesional, and, to those who knew him too well, hollow.

Gabriel recognized it for what it was: armor. Polished to perfection. The meeting was starting at the designed time, and each one of the members now waiting for George Claymore to make his moves to Hadeon in silence.

The chamber doors opened with a soft hiss.

A breeze of cool air drifted in with the first wave of new arrivals. Cloaks rustled; boots tapped. Shadows stretched longer across the floor as the light from the windows shifted with the hour.

With their sapphire robes stitched with silver sigils that shimmered subtly against the pale stone floor, the Ministry of Magic representatives entered in a stately formation. Leading them was High Arcanist Virenth, her presence a calculated blend of mystery and control. Her staff, made of black obsidian with moving runes etched on it, tapped once before becoming motionless.

The Ministry of Defense, a wall of ironed uniforms, stoic stares, and calculated power, appeared behind her. Frost-eyed and square-shouldered, General Halbrecht led his delegation with the fatigue of someone who was familiar with every scar on the Empire. His salutes were short, practical, and simple.

Everyone bowed to Damian before taking their assigned positions.

And everyone noticed the current seating arrangement.

None commented on Elliot Claymore’s absence; they had heard rumors, first about Elliot being swapped by Maximilian as an heir and then a few days ago about the son regaining his favor. They did not care about them; their only goal was to ensure that the project was approved.

None questioned why the civilians—the Claymores company employees—were already seated at the head table.

But they noticed.

Gabriel could feel it in the brief glances, the subtle turns of heads, the murmurs just short of audible. He ignored them; his decision to leave the project weighed heavily on him, but there was no other option.

When the final document trays were set down, Damian’s voice brought the room to order.

"We begin."

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