VERONICA
I stared at the cold, selfish man standing right before me. His blazing gaze met mine, and for a moment, I was startled. They were burning, accusing, and—hurt.
A displeased frown shrivelled my brows as I questioned, “what are you doing here?”
Christian, however, didn't reply to my query; instead, he stepped forward, aggressively violating the distance between us, and stopped right before me when my breasts were almost touching his sturdy chest.
His delating gaze swept across my face with a hard glare, “why?” He asked suddenly. “Why did you involve him in my children's lives?”
I gasped at his words at first, unable to understand. But soon, I realized who he was referring to: William Denston seems to be his problem.
So, he knows. Fair enough, but he has no right
