"I let you indulge. I allowed you to drift. Because you were my son. Because you were soft and kind and foolish in a world that eats boys like that alive." Her voice dropped lower. "I never expected greatness. I only wanted you to live. To be safe."
Elysia stood silently, her posture rigid, gaze steady—but she said nothing. Because this wasn't a matter of proof. It was grief.
Vivienne shook her head, the disbelief returning in waves. "And then you left. Said you were going to live on your own. Said you wanted to be serious now. I was proud, Damien. I thought it was a first step. I thought maybe… maybe you were growing."
"You don't look like my son."
Damien's jaw tightened. His hands dropped slowly to his sides as he stepped closer, his voice low and steady.
"It's still me, Mother."
Vivienne didn't move. Couldn't. Her breath came fast, shallow. She stared at him, helpless.
