Chapter 89: She Is Married?

  Martin's office breathed old money and calculated prestige, a carefully curated shrine to power and influence. Sunlight filtered through heavy drapes, casting long shadows across the mahogany furniture that had witnessed decades of deals and betrayals. He sat behind his expansive desk, surrounded by sepia-toned photographs of stern-faced ancestors whose eyes seemed to judge his every move. The antique phone before him gleamed with purpose, its brass fittings catching the afternoon light.   The Persian rug beneath his feet had worn thin in places, marking the paths of countless negotiations. Martin traced its intricate patterns with his eyes, gathering courage for the call he needed to make. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked away precious seconds, its steady rhythm a countdown to what he feared would be disaster.   His fingers trembled slightly as he reached for the rotary dial. Each click echoed in the quiet room as he dialed Hugo's number, the sound seeming to bounce o