CHAPTER FIFTY FOURRIPPLES IN THE SILENCE
LILIANA The tea had gone cold. Liliana Locke sat motionless in the ornate sitting room of her countryside estate, the fire crackling softly across from her. The television still played the aftermath of the press conference—pundits debating Damien’s boldness, the fallout, the unexpected declaration of love. She hadn’t blinked in minutes. Damien. Her son. She still saw him as a boy. The little boy who had once clung to her leg and begged her not to go. And now, he had stood before the world—a man forged from ambition and grief—and chosen to protect love over legacy. She’d expected to see a mirror of Gerard: polished, calculated, hardened. But instead, she had seen herself. Her throat tightened. "He’s nothing like his father." He was vulnerable but brave. Direct, but emotional. And he
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