Sweetheart"
Camilla crouched beside Sinclair, wrapping her arms around his.
"There are still things I need to ask Jonathan," she said, her clear, guileless eyes fixed on his dark, razor-sharp gaze.
"Let him go for now, okay?"
Sinclair's pitch-black pupils contracted slightly as he turned to look at her, his intense stare locking onto her beautiful eyes—eyes that held only his reflection.
The storm of rage and anguish that had consumed him gradually subsided.
His thin lips parted, his voice hoarse and strained. "Alright."
The long, powerful fingers that had been clamped around Jonathan's throat slowly loosened their grip.
"Cough... cough..."
Gasping for air, Jonathan clutched his throat, coughing violently.
Camilla shot Uncle Carlos a meaningful glance.
With a nod, Uncle Carlos immediately stepped forward, half-supporting, half-dragging Jonathan out of the room.
The living room was now empty except for Sinclair and Camilla.
