Barnabas’s POV
“You need to stop right there,” I said, my voice sharp enough to cut through the heavy air of the dining room.
Portia didn’t listen. She kept lunging toward me with a look of frantic desperation, her face flushed and her eyes darting around like she was hunting for a prize. I didn’t move an inch to meet her. I just snapped my hand up, palm flat, creating a wall of air between us. She skidded to a halt three meters away, her mouth hanging open in total confusion.
The room was a mess of noise. Behind me, I heard my parents whispering in rapid, jagged bursts. My aunts let out sharp gasps of air. I blocked them out. My focus was on the centre of the room, where the light hit the polished table and the people who had just ruined my life. I stepped past Portia, ignoring her ent
