Dami’s POV

The dining room felt colder than usual, though the heaters were on and the lights soft. I could feel it in my bones, the kind of chill that wasn’t from the air but from the unspoken tension sitting at the table.

I blinked. My fork hovered over my plate, meaningless now. “Sophia, are you sure about that?” My voice didn’t carry the accusation. It carried disbelief.

Doman leaned forward, concern sharp on his face. “Sophia, how sure are you?”

“I’m sure,” Sophia ...