The smile on Damian’s lips froze and slowly faded away.
Under his cold gaze, Serena shrank back slightly. There was a helpless tremor in her voice.
“Damian… is Claire still mad at me?
“I’ve sent her so many messages, but she hasn’t replied to a single one…
“Maybe I should just leave? I’m sure she doesn’t want to see me again.”
Tears welled up in her eyes. Damian had seen this act too many times before, and an unbidden wave of irritation surged in his chest.
He frowned unconsciously, then offered a perfunctory reassurance asking her to take care of herself and not to overthink.
“Whether Claire accepts it or not, this house is yours and the baby’s from now on.”
Half an hour later, Damian stood alone on the open–air balcony, smoking a cigarette in his bathrobe.
He had quit smoking for Serena long ago, but the urge was overwhelming tonight.
As he scrolled through his phone, he ignored countless invitations from friends and idly flicked through his contacts.
At the very bottom, he stopped at a number he knew by heart.
His finger hovered over the call button for a long time.
By the time he had smoked two cigarettes, he still had not pressed it.
Frustrated, he finally composed a stern message and hit send: [Claire, tomorrow is Father’s birthday. You have to be there.]
[Don’t even think about pulling anything at the party. If you dare hurt Serena or the baby, I won’t forgive you.]
His tone was harsh, but deep down, he could not deny the restless anticipation at the thought of seeing Claire again.
On Victor’s birthday, Damian and Serena entered the banquet hall together, looking like the perfect couple. All eyes immediately turned to them the moment they appeared.
When Victor appeared in his sharp suit, Damian finally let go of Serena and walked to his father’s side.
Though older now, Victor still exuded an air of authority, his back ramrod straight.
He looked around the room, tapped his cane on the floor, and fixed Damian with a hawk–like gaze. “Where’s Claire? Why isn’t she with you?”
