Chapter 113

To others, it might have seemed like Daimon was a man deeply in love, a man who cherished his family and would do anything for them. But Enlyan knew better. This man had no heart. No matter how gentle he acted now, no matter how carefully he controlled his temper, she knew the truth. Daimon Blackwood wasn’t capable of true affection. She turned to Jessica, brushing a hand over her daughter's soft hair. "Do you want Mommy to feed you?" she asked, her voice light. Jessica hesitated, then nodded, her tiny fingers clutching Enlyan’s sleeve. But even as she did, she cast a wary glance at Daimon, fear flickering in her big, innocent eyes. Daimon saw it. And for the first time in his life, he didn't know how to fix it. A strange, suffocating weight settled in his chest. His own daughter was afraid of him. Afraid to even sit near him. It was a feeling he had never experienced before—one that unsettled him more than anger, more than frustration. It was helplessness. Enlyan quickly regained her