Before Gabriel could answer, the door creaked open again.
"Forgive the interruption—" Edward's voice came smoothly from the threshold.
And then he stopped.
Dead in his tracks.
His gaze fell instantly to the poster on the table, and something rare flickered behind his eyes. Not just concern.
Panic.
Edward never panicked.
Gabriel sat up straighter. "Edward?"
Edward strode forward, uncharacteristically fast, snatching the scroll and unrolling it fully. His gloved hands trembled slightly as he took it in.
"Oh no," he muttered. "No, no, no—this is worse than the Elliot image."
Edward snapped, eyes still locked on the portrait. "But this—this isn't slander. This is emotional warfare. This will break Damian's restraint."
Gabriel frowned. "He doesn't believe it. He knows—"
