chapter 43

Damian's sharp gaze swept across the sitting room, his jaw tightening with frustration. He had hoped to find Isabella lounging somewhere, unsuspecting, so he could confront her for the lies she had fed his grandmother. But the room was empty, save for the faint scent of lavender lingering in the air—a trace of her recent presence. His fingers curled into fists at his sides.

"Typical," he muttered under his breath.

Isabella was cunning, too clever for her own good. She had stirred up trouble, set things ablaze with her deceit, and now, like a shadow at dusk, she had vanished before facing the consequences.

"What exactly did she say to you that has you so worked up, Grandmother?" Damian asked firmly, his gaze steady on Mrs Claudia.