Chapter 93

Jasmine picked up the letter at the top of the pile when the door burst open. Claude strode in, eyes hard. His hair was slightly wet in the front, as though he had just splashed some water on his face. He stopped in front of her, staring down at the open drawer.

"What is this, Claude?"

He leaned down without a reply and closed the drawer, visibly displeased. "They are not yours to handle, Mother."

"Funny, they don't seem like yours either."

"I plan on burning them or returning them to their rightful owner."

Her son was infamously brusque, yet always kind-hearted. But now he was being unnecessarily harsh, defensive walls shooting up to avoid wherever this conversation was leading. Jasmine met his glare with a level gaze, standing up elegantly from the chair.