“What happened?” he demanded immediately. “How did this happen? You were supposed to watch him. You can’t even handle him for a few hours?”
“Damien, I—”
He didn’t let me finish.
His hand came down again.
Harder this time.
The slap rang through the room, sharper than before. My head snapped to the side, and I stood there stunned, one hand trembling against my cheek.
“You hurt my brother?” he shouted. “You had one job—just one—to take care of him!”
The room felt colder after that. My ears rang, my vision blurred, but what broke me wasn’t the pain.
It was the words.
I let out a shaky laugh, broken at the edges.
“Your… brother?” I whispered. Then louder, bitter now. “Or your son?”
Damien went still for a second, his brows knitting together like he was trying to make sense of what I had just thrown at him. Then, out of nowhere, he let out a low laugh—sharp, almost insulting, like he couldn’t decide whether to be amused or annoyed.
“What exactly are you talking about, Clara?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, that familiar cruel smirk creeping back into his expression.