TERESA'S P.O.V.
The drive back to Lucian's mansion was silent, the air between us thick with the weight of my father's venomous words. My mind was spinning, a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief. Could it be true? Could Gregory Williams not be my father? The possibility felt like a sharp dagger slicing through the fragile threads of my identity.
Lucian's hand rested on mine, trying to calm me, but even his touch couldn't stop the questions from flooding my mind.
"Teresa," Lucian's deep voice broke through my chaotic thoughts. "Stop."
I blinked, realizing I'd been gnawing on my lower lip so hard it stung. "Stop what?"
"Overthinking," he said, his tone firm but laced with concern. "You're going to drive yourself mad dissecting every word that man said. Let me handle it."
"Handle it how?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended. "Lucian, this is my life—my family. I can't just sit back and do nothing."
