DAMIEN’S POINT OF VIEW.
I was already angry before the thought finished forming. It wasn’t sudden. It wasn’t explosive. It was the kind of anger that had been sitting there for years, layered, compacted, waiting for the right trigger to c***k it open. I didn’t need proof. I didn’t need confirmation. I knew the moment her name crossed my mind that this was intentional.
Of course, she would do this. Of course, my mother wouldn’t let me cut her off cleanly. She never allowed distance without punishment. She never accepted rejection without retaliation. Silence from her always meant something worse was being prepared. She didn’t lose control. She redirected it.
And she had chosen Harry. My stepbrother. Her constant comparison. Her reminder that nothing I built was ever truly separate from h
