Damian Fairchild gazed at Seraphina Quinn, his eyes tender and deep. "If I can't handle this in a month, I'll sign the divorce papers."
Seraphina Quinn looked away from his face, tilting her head back to gaze at the night sky for a moment.
On this early autumn night, the starry sky seemed so serene and vast.
A gust of wind blew, and a yellowed sycamore leaf landed at her feet.
For a moment, an indescribable melancholy washed over her.
Her voice turned somber from the emotion. "Fine. You have one month."
As she finished speaking, Damian Fairchild took a step closer to her.
His phoenix eyes were fixed on Seraphina Quinn's, their gaze so sincere it seemed to hold an incredibly intense affection.
His voice was a little hoarse. "If I can handle it, can you… for the children's sake… give me a chance?"
Damian Fairchild's gaze was too deep, his look too intense and searing—a scorching heat that Seraphina Quinn couldn't possibly ignore.
