Sofia's POV
Olivia's teleport pulled us into a room, but this time the air was different—heavy with the smell of ink and old leather. An office. My eyes darted around, frantic, until I saw him.
Damien sat behind his desk, his back straight, his jaw tight. In his arms was our son, who leaned comfortably against him, playing with a pen Damien had given him. The sight should have eased me. My baby was safe. But instead, it only made my chest ache harder. His phone lay face down on the desk beside him.
I stumbled forward, my voice breaking. "Damien, why were you not picking up your calls…"
He looked up at me, his brow furrowed as he glanced at me and then back at Olivia. "So this is what you thought?" His tone was calm, too calm—dangerously so. "That I'd run away with him? That I'd take him away from you?"
