The storm didn’t take long to form.
She sat across from him in the dim light of an upscale lounge, her crimson nails drumming against the glass of wine she hadn’t touched. Her eyes glittered, satisfied, as her son—Damien’s son—leaned forward, his voice hushed, urgent.
“I’m telling you, Mom. He’s with her. I’ve seen it. That’s why he’s keeping her around. He doesn’t care what it does to me.”
The ex-wife’s smile was slow, venomous. “So that’s why you looked so broken. That girl… she chose him over you.”
His jaw tightened, shame flickering across his face before he masked it with anger. “She doesn’t know what she’s doing. She thinks he’s powerful, untouchable. But he’s not. If anyone can destroy him, it’s you.”
She leaned closer, her perfume intoxicating, her voice dripping like poisoned
