Just as Fiore stepped out of the dining room, still brimming with frustration, she was met by an all-too-familiar presence standing just outside. Her father. The man whose loyalty to Reginald a knife in her side that twisted every time they crossed paths.
“Fiore,” Alexander greeted her, his voice strained, but there was an underlying vulnerability in it that didn’t escape her notice.
“Father,” she replied with a sarcastic drawl, refusing to let him see any softness in her. She had to harden her heart. He had chosen Reginald over her, over his own blood.
Alexander’s face contorted in pain, but still, he pressed on. “Why do you have to have it?” His voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of someone who had been crushed by years of guilt and regret.
Fiore’s eyes narrowed, t
