Chapter 84

Enlyan hesitated, her gaze flickering between the plate and his hand. She wanted to ignore it—really, she did—but seeing his hand like that made her uneasy. She took the plate from him, lowering her voice. "I can take care of it myself. Your hand’s red—go see a doctor." "It’s nothing," Daimon replied, wiping his hand with a tissue as if the irritation didn’t exist. Without giving her a chance to protest, he picked up another mango and started peeling it. "Enough! Mr. Blackwood, I can’t eat that much," Enlyan blurted out, trying to stop him. Daimon’s movements halted, and his jaw tightened at the way she addressed him. "Mr. Blackwood." The title grated on his nerves, cold and distant, like they were complete strangers. They had once been husband and wife, sharing the same bed for three long years. Now she spoke to him like they had never been close at all. Did she really forget everything? Or was she just pretending to be someone else? Daimon couldn’t make sense of it. He hated how fore