[Damien's Penthouse – Dining Table – Moments Later]
Elle blinked.
Once.
Twice.
The third time? Might as well have been a system reboot.
"You mean… Callen Wolfe," she repeated like her mouth was moving on autopilot, "is your actual… brother? As in—real, certified, biological, born-from-the-same-womb sibling?"
Damien paused mid-bite, spoon halfway to his mouth. He tilted his head.
"Yes, Elle. I didn't rent him off Craigslist and start calling him my brother for tax deductions."
Clink.
Her fork slipped from her hand and landed on the plate with the grace of a crime scene. Elle didn't even flinch. Just stared into the air like she'd been struck by divine betrayal. Frozen. Solid. Marble-statue levels of stillness.
Damien blinked. Waited.
Nothing.
He waved his hand in front of her face.
Still nothing.
"...Pause," he mumbled under his breath, like he was trying to unfreeze a lagging NPC.
Still. Nothing.
He sighed dramatically, pushed back his chair, and stood.
