Running back to my babies
“Ares, we need to talk about her.”
Lady Bianca’s voice cut through the quietness of the marble floored sitting room. She sat upright on the edge of the couch, her hands clasped tightly on her lap, her posture dignified and commanding as ever. Marcus stood by the liquor cabinet, pouring himself a glass of brandy, though his eyes never left his son. The weight of their scrutiny bore heavily on Ares, but he didn’t flinch.
Julian, leaning casually against the mantlepiece, caught Ares’s eye and gave a subtle nod. The plan was already in motion.
Ares let out a controlled breath and lowered himself into the armchair opposite his mother. “Mother… Father… what exactly do you want to know?”
Bianca’s sharp gaze softened only slightly. “Don’t play games with me, Ares.
