At his words, Seraphina Quinn's heart gave an uneasy lurch. She stammered, "What... thing?"
As she spoke, her mind raced.
Six months ago, when she had staged her death with Charles Winslow's help and escaped to Veldtmar, she hadn't taken a single item that belonged to Seraphina Quinn. There was no way she could have anything of Seraphina's on her.
'Is Damian Fairchild bluffing me?'
At that thought, Seraphina Quinn's tone hardened.
"Fairchild, you have quite the sense of humor. I've never met your ex-wife, so how could I possibly have anything of hers?"
Damian Fairchild's gaze remained locked on her face, not missing a single flicker of expression.
"How could you have never met my ex-wife? Weren't you just having a lively chat with her earlier?"
Seraphina Quinn said, "I thought you meant your deceased ex-wife..."
Damian Fairchild chuckled. "I said you had something of my ex-wife's, Miss Yara. I never specified which one. Why did you instinctively assume I meant my first?"
