Silence lingered, thick and heavy, as understanding replaced every excuse.
Charles broke it with calm authority.
“A woman who chooses you,” he said, voice steady, “has already made her stand. When you try to manage her loyalty, you tell her—without meaning to—that you don’t trust her to protect the very thing she gave you freely.”
Damien felt the words settle deep. Heavy. Unavoidable.
“When I was young,” Charles continued, voice calm, unhurried, “I thought I understood women.”
A faint breath of amusement escaped him.
“I was wrong.”
His eyes lifted, settling briefly in the direction Eleanor had gone, something softer passing through his expression.
“Your grandmother,” he said, “was never loud when she was angry. Never dramatic. She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t argue in circles
