“Get off your fucking brother, Seraphina!” he bellows, spit flying from his mouth. His composure is completely shattered now. “This is depraved! This is?—“
“Your web of lies is catching up to you,” I snap, but stay firmly planted on Lucien’s lap, his hand still possessively gripping my thigh.
Vincent ignores me completely, turning his fury toward Lucien. “You are a disgrace to this family,” he snarls, jabbing a finger in Lucien’s direction. “I gave you everything. The best schools, the best opportunities, the family legacy! And this is how you repay me? By debasing yourself with this—this?—“
“Careful how you finish that sentence,” Lucien warns, his voice deadly quiet.
I shiver at the way he’s so quick to immediately defend me. I don’t think anyone has ever done that for me before.
Chapter 21
Lucien
“Ishould have known you’d be a disappointment. Just like your mother. Weak. Undisciplined. You’ve always been a liability, but this?” He gestures wildly at us. “This is beyond redemption.”
I feel something shift inside me—a cold, crystalline clarity replacing the rage that’s been building. My father’s words wash over me like they’ve done my entire life, but for once, I don’t feel the need to defend myself. I just stare at him, watching spittle fly from his mouth as he continues his tirade.
“I gave you everything!” he roars, slamming his fist on the table again. “The Devereux name, the Society connections, my fucking legacy! And you squander it on this—this whore?”
Seraphina tenses on my lap, but I keep my hand firmly on her thigh, squeezing once to keep her still. Let him exhaust himself. Let him show her exactly who he is.
“You’re just like her,” he continues, his voice dropping to something uglier, more venomous. “Your mother is weak too. Can’t handle what it means to be part of this family. Can’t handle her duties. And now you—my own son—fucking your sister.”
I don’t correct him. Don’t tell him we’re not related. Don’t give him the satisfaction of a response yet. My silence only fuels his rage.
“You think the Society will accept this? You think you can just do whatever the fuck you want because you’re the heir? There are rules, Lucien. Traditions. Lines that even we don’t cross.”
My thumb traces lazy circles on Seraphina’s bare skin while my father’s face grows redder with each word. I can feel her heartbeat accelerating under my touch, her body practically vibrating with the tension she’s holding back.
“Nothing to say?” Vincent sneers, his perfect composure completely shattered. “No clever comebacks? No justification for your depravity?”
I simply take a sip of wine, maintaining eye contact over the rim of my glass.
“This is what happens when you’re given too much, too young,” he spits. “You become entitled. Spoiled. Rotten to the fucking core. I should have been harder on you. Should have beaten that weakness out of you when I had the chance.”
Seraphina’s body goes rigid at that. I can practically feel the fury radiating off her in waves.
“You know what?” Vincent continues, his voice dripping with disgust. “Maybe you deserve each other. The disappointing son and the bastard daughter. A fitting punishment for both of you.”
I still say nothing, just watching him unravel. This is what I wanted—for her to see him as he truly is. No masks, no pretenses. Just the raw, ugly truth of Vincent Devereux.
“You’re fucking pathetic,” he snarls, directing his venom back at me. “A stain on the Devereux name. Your grandfather would be disgusted if he could see what you’ve become. He’d?—”
“Shut the fuck up.”
It’s not me who speaks.
The words don’t come from me but from Seraphina, who rises from my lap in one fluid motion. She’s fucking magnificent in her fury.
“You don’t get to stand there and spew this bullshit about morality when you cheated on your wife and fucked a married woman and then lied about it for over two decades.”
My father heads looks like it might actually pop. Imagine it, like a little cherry tomato. I wonder if I poke it with a tine of my fork if it really will happen.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about?—“
“Oh, I think I do,” she cuts him off. “You’re not mad because you think he’s fucking his sister. You’re mad because you’ve lost control of him. Of this whole fucking situation.”
I lean back in my chair, enjoying the show. My Little Sinner has claws, and she’s not afraid to use them.
