The Damone Child

Victor Cromwell raised an eyebrow. Carol furrowed her brows, wondering if she had offended the new Mayor. What was she thinking asking such a weird question?

"I don't remember meeting you before today, Miss Atelier…" Victor replied firmly. Even though his words were straightforward, intoxicating charm exuded from him.

"Are you okay?" he added, watching her shift uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry, never mind me. I just felt like I met you somewhere before—some sort of déjà vu. But please, no formalities. You can call me Carol."

Victor nodded with grace. "I understand, Carol. You just had a long day. Have a rest. The election season ahead will be nerve-wracking. Moreover, I assume you're expecting."

"You can tell? It's been only a few weeks! Don't tell me I'm getting fat already!"

Victor shook his head with amusement. "No, of course not. I was in the intelligence wing of the army. They taught us a few tricks."