She paused, then added with a teasing smile, “And you, young man, are practically a nephew to me.”
After a beat, she chuckled again. “Besides, I don’t recall my children ever calling your mother Mrs. Blackwood, do they?”
Something in her tone—easy, familiar, sincere—cut through the formality.
Damien felt it.
He inclined his head once, the gesture unguarded. “Thank you… Aunt Alice.”
Her face lit up. “Ah! See? That already sounds much better.” Then her expression shifted, turning thoughtful. “Speaking of which… I believe I owe you an apology.”
Damien frowned slightly.
“Pardon?”
Alice gently set her cutlery down, smoothing her napkin with deliberate calm.
“An apology,” she said evenly, “on behalf of my daughter.”
Understanding flickered across Damien’s face—but before Alice could co
