Seraphina Quinn's pupils shrank at Damian Fairchild's words.
In just a few seconds, the look in her eyes shifted from disbelief to hurt, and then to sorrow.
Her eyes grew moist, the rims turning red.
She said nothing.
'I don't understand. Why does he always think the worst of me?'
'I've never been with anyone but him.'
'He's the one who's always surrounded by scandals. How dare he think of me like that?'
When she didn't speak, Damian Fairchild lowered his head in disappointment.
As the wind blew from behind, the blood on his hand spattered onto the ground, shattering like glass.
It was just like his heart, which shattered at that moment, never to be whole again.
Suddenly, he felt an immense exhaustion.
It was as if he had survived a cataclysm, leaving him battered, bruised, and utterly weary.
'Maybe… I should just let it all go.'
As Damian Fairchild had this thought, his shattered heart throbbed with a raw pain.
"Seraphina."
