Severin had never expected to have an heir. The thought of having a child had never even crossed his mind.
But the moment Nikhael called and told him Isolde was pregnant, Severin's body moved on instinct. He shot up from his chair so fast that it tipped over and crashed to the floor behind him.
Tiffara, lounging sweetly next to one of Severin's business partners, furrowed her brows in confusion as she watched him abruptly stand.
He didn't say a single fucking word to anyone in that room. Still, Severin could feel their eyes on him—Tiffara's, Corvin's, the rest of those smug bastards—as he stormed out of the casino's private meeting lounge.
They were supposed to be finalizing a deal today—drinks, cards, and business talk, with whores pouring their whiskey and massaging their egos.
But Severin walked out right in the middle of it right when he was close to winning the game—not cash, but something better: debt.
