"Mrs. Clarke," Grace said, her eyes turning cold.
She could tolerate being misunderstood, but she wouldn't tolerate insults to her character.
"I am sitting here listening to your nonsense only out of respect for the fact that you are Damien's mother."
"I couldn't choose my family, but I built my own life. Every scar on my body is proof of my integrity."
"As for Damien..." Grace stood up, looking down at Marianne. "It's not that I can't leave him. It's that he begged me to stay."
"You! You witch!" Marianne was trembling with rage. She picked up her teacup, ready to throw its contents at Grace.
With a loud bang, the door to the room was kicked open. The door slammed against the wall, shaking loose a few pieces of plaster.
Damien stood in the doorway, radiating fury. He strode into the room and pulled Grace behind him in one swift motion.
The tea splashed across his back, the scalding liquid soaking through his suit jacket.
But he didn't even flinch. He just turned his head and stared daggers at Marianne.
"Mother, it seems you didn't hear a word I said last time," Damien's voice was ice.
Marianne was terrified by the look in her son's eyes. The teacup slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor.
"Damien... Damien, let me explain... I was only doing this for your own good! This woman is too manipulative..."
"Be quiet!" Damien roared. He turned around, anxiously checking to see if Grace had been burned. Once he was sure she was unharmed, he faced Marianne again, his eyes filled with disappointment.
"Mother, you've always asked me why it has to be her, haven't you? You've always felt she wasn't good enough for the Clarke family."
Damien took a fountain pen from his pocket. It was the one Grace had given him. The cap was worn, and some of the paint was chipping.

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