"Mr. Dixon, my name is Isla Mason. I'm here to be your grandson's wife."
The study smelled of old paper and coffee. Isla set a battered ID card and a tarnished engagement token on the polished desk with deliberate calm.
Victor Dixon's hand hovered over the papers. He did not look at her. He looked at the token, then at the ID, then at the butler who stood behind Isla like a shadow.
"That token belonged to my son," Victor said. His voice was slow and measured. "How do you have it?"
"It was given to me by my grandfather," Isla said. She kept her eyes level. "Beckett Mason asked me to come."
"But where is he?" Victor barked. "Why is your grandfather not here to sign for himself?"
Isla's fingers found the edge of the desk. She tapped it once. "He didn't want to be humiliated," she said. "He warned me it would turn to shouting. He said the old men would tear up the papers and call him a coward."
Victor's jaw twitched. He glanced toward the doorway as if expecting the house to spill its secrets in at any moment.
Chen, the butler, cleared his throat. "Mr. Dixon, we have the original settlement papers. They were in the safe."
"Bring them." Victor's voice became shorter. "Bring them now."
Footsteps moved down the corridor. Paper shuffled. Chen returned with a leather folder and set it on the desk with the sound
