The table stilled. Even the clinking of silverware seemed to pause. James froze mid-bite, fork suspended in the air. Dahlia’s gaze met Eleanor’s, a flash of surprise passing between them. Maya’s eyes narrowed at Damien, quiet but sharp, waiting for his next move.
Across the table, Ashcroft couldn’t resist. He let out a low whistle, lifting his wine glass. “Busted.”
Damien exhaled, took a careful sip of wine, and set the glass down. He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Umm… yes, it’s—uh—it’s new.”
Maya arched a brow. “Did you just make that up for Jaime?”
Damien met her gaze, sighed, then cracked a small, sheepish smile. “You could say that… but it’s real. I just hadn’t announced it yet. But now… I guess this is as good a time as any. The program exists.”
The table froze for a heartbeat.
