Every nerve in Xi Yuan's body screamed to reach for her—to fall to his knees, to press his lips to the hollow of her neck and whisper apologies for the unforgivable sins his bloodline had carved into her life. To kiss her senseless for the love she had still chosen to give him—freely, fiercely, in spite of it all. To weep against her skin. To worship her with every breath he had left.
But he didn't move.
He stood there, fists curled at his sides, eyes fastened to the woman before him as she wordlessly poured herself a glass of deep crimson wine.
Rong Xinghe drew a sharp breath and downed it in one swift, familiar motion—only to refill it again.
The truth of her abortion alone had been devastating. Her inability to carry life—a reality she hadn't yet found the strength to speak to him about—was enough to break even the strongest soul. But this? The revelation about the Xi family elders' murder?
Even the Superfamily had gone silent.
