"Lucian, you killed Charles, didn't you?"
"He was a fool who wanted to touch what I own."
"What you own?"
"You think you own me? Is that why you bought me? Is that why you planned with the officers to arrest me? You destroyed my whole life because of whatever you thought? I was five—five years old!"
"Do you think I traced you down? It was a coincidence? Bran was a person ready to sell his wife."
"A coincidence? You want me to believe this was all a coincidence? Why did you do all of this to me?"
Lucian's face changed. The cool composure tightened, hardened at the edges, like frost forming on glass.
"No, Camilla," he said, his voice dropping into something low and perfectly controlled. "I have given you no right to speak to me like that. So, for your own good, you will remain silent."
"Wow. You want to shut me up?" The laugh that tore from my throat was raw, ripped open.
