Chapter 50

• "What's the plan, Mum?" Jack asked quietly, his voice cutting through the thick silence of the room.
• He sat across from her on the soft velvet couch, legs slightly apart, elbows resting on his knees. His eyes searched his mother's face for a reaction, but she remained still—elegant, composed, yet unreadable—sitting in her usual spot by the window.
• Mrs. Sydney didn't answer immediately. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap, her expression unreadable, almost serene. But Jack knew better. That stillness wasn't peace; it was calculation. His words had landed like a stone in a pond, and her silence meant the ripples were still forming.