Wade Rockwell stood at the head of the long oak table, his presence commanding even among the titans seated around him. Dressed in a perfectly tailored navy suit, he addressed Emilio Luciano with the kind of poise only years of experience could forge. “It’s not a traditional marriage by any means,” Wade said, his deep voice unwavering, “but we never claimed to be traditional.” His words carried the weight of authority, deliberate and immovable. Emilio bristled, his posture stiffening as his sharp gaze locked with Wade’s. “The Lucianos are traditional,” he bit out, his accent thick with indignation. “A married couple should live together, Wade. That’s how it’s always been.” Wade’s jaw tightened, though his expression betrayed nothing. Foolish sentimentality. Emilio’s stubbornness was no surprise, but Wade had no patience for it.. Emilio’s protests might sound reasonable to an outsider, but Dominic saw them for what they were—weakness disguised as principle. Why do they all insist on making this so difficult? Carter thought, his dark brown eyes flicking to Dominic, who sat rigid as ever. He knew his older brother was calculating every angle, but Carter couldn’t help feeling this entire ordeal was unnecessary. His gaze shifted to Wes, lounging on a nearby sofa, tossing grapes into the air like a child. Carter’s jaw tightened. Of course. “Would you stop that?” he hissed, his voice low but firm. Wes caught the grape in his mouth, smirking. “What? I’m just keeping things lively.” He gestured lazily toward the table. “Not like they need me for this snooze fest.” Carter pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re embarrassing us.” Wes rolled his eyes but popped another grape. “Relax, Mom. Dominic’s got it covered.” He’ll never take anything seriously, Carter thought, the familiar exasperation settling like a weight in his chest. He shot Wes a sharp look. “If you’re so bored, go check on Cydney . They’ve been hiding upstairs all night.” Wes straightened slightly, his smirk faltering. “They’re still up there?”