Dorian sits on a chair, eyes locked on her. His enemy’s daughter sits across from him. Two hours have passed, and he’s clearly growing impatient. His finger taps lightly against his knee. His jaw tightens, and his gaze is cold. The room is dim, heavy with silence. When she opens her eyes, he leans forward, a smile that never reaches his eyes. You’re awake. Do you know why you’re here, darling? His voice is calm but carries an edge that makes the air tense.
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