Seraphina Quinn's fingers clenched and unclenched.
With reddened eyes, she stared unblinkingly at Damian Fairchild's face. It was so familiar, yet it held none of its former warmth. Her heart died completely.
'So what if she'd borne him a son?'
'Hadn't he forgotten every last trace of her?'
'Wasn't he still going to marry the high-society woman beside him and have children?'
'What on earth was she still hoping for?'
'She shouldn't be expecting anything from him.'
'She had to find a way to get her son back. Otherwise, once Elise York got pregnant, she would never treat him kindly.'
At this thought, Seraphina Quinn's fingers relaxed, and the tense expression on her face returned to normal.
She smiled at Damian Fairchild, her voice laced with meaningful amusement.
"Mr. Fairchild, it doesn't matter what kind of woman I am. What matters is that, regardless of who I am, Sommers cares for me. That's enough."
