Dorian held his fork, but he didn’t take another bite.
The exquisite food before him seemed to have lost all its flavor.
His mind was a whirlwind of emotions: relief, confusion, and above all, an overwhelming sense of shame and guilt in the face of Grace and Damien.
The crystal chandelier in the dining room cast a warm glow, but after a brief moment of warmth, the atmosphere settled back into a subtle quiet.
Damien cut his foie gras with elegant, refined movements.
As if making small talk, he glanced up at Dorian casually.
"Dorian, you really are different from those two."
His voice was soft, yet it carried a piercing, all-knowing quality.
Dorian stiffened and gave a bitter smile, unsure how to respond.
Damien continued, "I recall you went to study abroad very early on. You didn't spend much time with Grace."
Dorian nodded. "Yes, I left during my sophomore year of high school. I was only in the same school as Grace… for one semester."
"One semester was enough."
Damien set down his silverware, picked up his wine glass, and gently swirled the deep red liquid inside.
Through the glass, his gaze fell on Grace's slightly puzzled face, his eyes filled with an undeniable tenderness.
"Grace's personality hasn't changed since she was a child. She looks cold, but she has the softest heart."
His tone shifted as he looked at Dorian.
"In high school, didn't she protect a classmate whose family had gone bankrupt and was being bullied by everyone?"
Grace, who had been sipping her soup, paused.
In her memory, Damien was at the pinnacle of the social elite, a god who had descended from the heavens to pull her from the mire when she was at her lowest.
That part of her high school memory was bleak and distant, with no connection to the brilliant man sitting before her now.
Grace thought he had long forgotten…
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