"Who the hell do you think you are, talking to me like that?"
Sinclair's words landed like an invisible slap across Tyler's face—singing, searing.
"You—" Tyler's face paled, then darkened, humiliated and resentment swirling in his eyes.
Nothing infuriated him more than Sinclair's condescending demeanor, as though he were nothing but dirt beneath his feet.
They were both part of the Luther Family.
So why—?!
"Whether you admit it or not," he ground out through clenched teeth, forcing his voice steady, "this is the Luther estate.
And like it or not, we share the same surname."
A low, mocking chuckle escaped Sinclair as he leaned back in his chair, one arm draped lazily around Camilla.
"Just a bastard who doesn't belong," he drawled, though his dark, piercing eyes held no trace of amusement—only a bottomless abyss of ice.
"A few years with the Luther name, and you've already forgotten your place?"
"Don't forget, I can strip you of the Luther name anytime I wish."
