Damon's POV
"Father—"
The word scraped out of me like broken glass, raw and jagged. I wasn't even sure if I had the right to say it, but I said it anyway.
Marcus stilled, his eyes narrowing at the tremor in my voice. For a man who thrived on control, even the smallest slip was a weakness, and he knew it.
His gaze burned into me, sharp enough to peel me apart layer by layer.
"You've never called me that before," he said slowly. "Not since you were a boy. Why now?"
I swallowed, my throat dry, my palms damp. "Because this isn't about power, or the company, or even the war we've been fighting with Lucian.
This… this is about blood. About the truth you've been running from all this time."
His jaw clenched. "What truth, Damon?"
"The real documents." My voice cut through the air, quiet but hard, like steel. "They're here. With me."
