Damien followed Ivy down the hall and into the east wing. She tried to shut the door, but he caught it with his hand and pushed inside. The room felt tight the moment he stepped in. Ivy turned to face him, her eyes red, her shoulders shaking, her hand still pressed over her stomach.

“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t start again.”

“I have to,” Damien replied. His voice was rough. “We didn’t finish.”

“We finished when you talked about killing my child,” Ivy snapped.

He flinched. ...