“Happy anniversary, Damian,” she said. Her voice was a raw, scratchy thing.
A flicker of annoyance crossed Damian’s face before his usual cold mask settled back into place. He gave a curt nod. “Hm.” He didn’t look at the box.
Seraphina leaned closer to him, her voice a sweet, melodic chime that grated on Aurora’s nerves. “Oh, is that a Black Forest cake? Damian, you remembered it’s my favorite.”
Aurora watched, frozen. She saw the lie for what it was-a casual, cruel power play.
Damian picked up the cake box without a flicker of hesitation and handed it to Seraphina.
