Daphne’s POV

The words slammed through me like a door ripped off its hinges.

Charles’s voice carried the same dismissive cruelty it always did, like Christian’s existence was just an inconvenience, not a living, breathing boy who had changed my entire world.

I couldn’t see them from where I stood, pressed against the wall just outside the office door,

but I could hear Zayne’s ragged breathing sharp, uneven, furious.

“My son,” Zayne said, every syllable heavy with defiance. “The ...