ALEXANDER
I didn’t need to step outside to know what was happening.
The moment Irene’s voice rose—in that quiet way of hers—I was already on my feet, moving toward the window. I stopped just short of it, my hand braced against the glass as I looked down at the entrance.
Diana was on the ground.
For a split second, something ugly flickered in my chest—not guilt, not sympathy, but irritation. Deep, bone-tired irritation. The kind that came from having your boundaries trampled over and over again and still being expected to explain yourself.
Diana pushed herself up slowly, one hand pressed to her cheek, eyes wide with disbelief.
“You—” Her voice shook with outrage. “You put your hand on me?”
Irene didn’t flinch.
“Yes,” Irene said flatly. “And I’ll do it again if you ever raise your ha
