Julian's fingers tightened around the warm cup of tea, but the heat did nothing for him. His chest kept rising too fast, his breath uneven, like he was trying to swallow panic and failing.
Then, out of nowhere, he snapped.
He slammed the cup down so hard the tea jumped and splashed across the table.
"I look exactly like my dad!" his voice cracked as he stared around the room, desperate and furious at the same time. "If I'm not his son, then who am I? Who the hell am I?"
No one answered him right away. The silence made it worse.
Lewis's gaze cut straight to Camilla, sharp and unforgiving. "You must know something," he said coldly. "Tell him."
Camilla's arms wrapped tighter around her stomach, like her whole world was the life growing inside her. Julian could be falling apart in front of her and she still wouldn't care at least not enough to show it.
Her eyes dropped. Her voice came out thin, almost lazy. "I don't know anything."
