Lila
Dane's eyes were haunted. Whose wouldn't be. His father wanted him dead?
"Why?" Lila breathed.
"Because I reflect on him. As long as I'm successful and the world thinks I'm good, he looks like he doesn't have control. And I am…I am his son. I'm a reflection of him."
"And a fabulous one."
Dane scoffed. "You don't know my father."
"I don't need to. Dane, any man with a heart would be proud to have you as a son. Any mother would be proud—" She cut off as Dane pushed out his chair and walked to the other side of the room. "What?"
