“He is not my son,” declared Victor Halden, his voice cold and unforgiving, echoing through the marble hall of the mansion. “Pack your things and leave.”
“He is not my son,” declared Victor Halden, his voice cold and unforgiving, echoing through the marble hall of the mansion. “Pack your things and leave.” Isabelle clutched the infant tighter to her chest, her arms trembling. “Victor… please, listen—” “I said leave!” he barked, cutting her off with a sharp motion of his hand….