The silence that followed Uncle Dom's revelation was deafening. Everyone stared at him, processing the implications of what he'd just said. The command center continued buzzing with activity around them, but their corner felt frozen in time.
"So let me get this straight," Kelvin said finally, his cybernetic arms moving as he tried to wrap his head around the concept. "For decades, maybe centuries, the family heads have been playing some twisted version of musical chairs where the music stops every fifty years and someone dies? And nobody thought to mention this in the family newsletters?"
Uncle Dom nodded grimly. "The younger generations were kept in the dark. Each family head thought they were protecting their children by maintaining the secret."
