CHAPTER 3
Damian realized in that sickening moment that Sofia wasn't suffering from amnesia. She was suffering from trauma, a deep, psychological conditioning that Celeste had carefully cultivated over the last three years.
He didn't waste another second. He lunged forward, ignoring Celeste completely, and dropped to his knees in the puddle of dirty water on the marble floor.
“Celeste, if you take one more step toward her, I will bury you,” Damian threatened, his eyes locking onto his wife’s face. “Sofia, I am taking you out of this house. We are leaving right now.”
Celeste’s eyes flashed with a dangerous, dark amusement. “You think you can just take her? She’s a ward of my estate, Damian. I have the papers to prove it.”
Damian stood up, his face an immovable wall of granite. “I don't care about your papers, your threats, or your money. I am a Castelmont, and I am the most powerful man in this industry.”
He reached out, tentatively placing his hand on Sofia’s shoulder, waiting for the recoil. She shuddered violently, but this time, she didn't pull away; instead, she leaned into his touch, a single, silent tear tracking through the grime on her cheek.
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The dam broke. Damian scooped her into his arms, ignoring the weight of her thin frame, and turned toward the massive black doors.
“Call my lawyers,” Damian barked to the security team standing stunned in the foyer. “If anyone stops me, use whatever force is necessary.”
