Kael Woods
I punch the wall until my knuckles burn. The marble gives a hollow thud that echoes through the drawing room and answers me with silence. “What the f**k is that for?” I roar, turning on Clide. “You have no right to hurt my wife. I am not going to stand here and let you take over what I suffered to build.”
“My grandson, I am doing what is best for you,” Grandma replies, her voice as cold as the cane she leans on. “You need an heir. We can’t have a barren woman as your wife.”
“Barren?” The word slashes me. I lunge forward before I can stop myself, the old anger—the one that forged me into who I am—fueling every step. Five guards collide with me like a wall. Heavy hands clamp around my arms and shoulders; I fight them until the sharp sting of my wounded shoulder makes me howl.
