“Anastasia, you owe Adeline an apology,” he declared, his voice sharp and unyielding.
Owe her? The very thought was absurd. She was the one who had spread vicious lies about my son, Kieran. The injustice of it all churned inside me, boiling over in a fury I could no longer suppress. My voice dripped with venom as I scoffed. “In your dreams! I despise you!”
For the first time, I met Ronan’s gaze without an ounce of the affection that had once resided there. What had once been admiration had now solidified into pure, unwavering hatred.
A flicker of something unreadable passed through his expression—annoyance, perhaps, but tinged with an unfamiliar softness. “Anastasia,” he began, his tone shifting, “just listen to me, and you can have anything you desire. I can be there for your son. I can even make you my Luna.”