Damian Fairchild's voice was so cold, so frigid that Seraphina Quinn felt she could feel the icy chill radiating from him even through the phone.
Seraphina felt a sense of self-inflicted humiliation.
She felt she shouldn't have made this call.
She regretted it deeply!
So, she swallowed the words she was about to say—about Cian giving her the screen—and said, "It's nothing."
Damian Fairchild gazed at his own sharp silhouette in the floor-to-ceiling glass, his face devoid of expression. "If it's nothing, then I'm hanging up."
Seraphina's fingers tightened. She hesitated, "I…"
Damian Fairchild sneered. "Seraphina Quinn, being so hesitant isn't like you."
Damian Fairchild was waiting. Waiting for Seraphina Quinn to proactively confess about the screen from Cian.
But to his disappointment, after he finished speaking, Seraphina simply said in an offhand manner:
"If our son isn't asleep, I'd like to speak with him."
Damian Fairchild refused.
