Silas's POV
The oak door to my office crashed against the wall with enough force to rattle the crystal decanter on my bookshelf. My fountain pen froze above the contract, ink bleeding into an ugly blot across the signature line. Only one person in this family had the audacity to barge into my space without knocking.
"Learn to use a doorknob, Hugo," I growled, not bothering to look up from the ruined document. "Unless you're planning to pay for new hinges."
Usually, he would fire back with some smartass comment, maybe throw himself into one of my leather chairs like he owned the place. Instead, I heard nothing but the erratic tap of expensive shoes against marble. The sound was wrong, frantic, like he was fighting the urge to bolt.
