As Rosella glared at the adorable picture of Carmelita's four-year-old son, staring right back at her with those captivating, innocent hazel eyes, her lips pressed into a thin, hard line.
The child's silky red curls and his delicate face were the true carbon copy of the witch who had brought nothing but bad luck to her family.
Rosella looked up at her son, her expression darkened. "So..." She hissed.
"Don't you recognise who this little boy looks like?" Julio frowned, thinking his mother would catch the face of their worst enemy. "That is Carmelita's bastard son. Pascal and I just made the discovery this afternoon."
Rosella let out a cold, humourless laugh and shoved the phone back into Julio's chest.
"What's new?"
Julio blinked twice, caught between his proud discovery and confusion. Then it clicked and a frown etched across his forehead.
"So you already knew?"
