Victor's POV
Sleep refused to come.
I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, watching shadows slide across the plaster as moonlight softened into pale dawn.
Each time I closed my eyes, Lily's face flashed before me...her tears, hurt and confusion. The way she'd looked at me in the gallery, like I was a monster. Like the man who'd taken her to school had suddenly transformed into something cruel and confusing.
My words replayed like a curse.
"Poorly raised."
I had said that. To a child.
Shame crawled through my chest, heavy and suffocating. I rolled onto my side, then my back again, searching for a position that might ease the weight pressing down on my chest. But there was no escape from it. No comfortable angle that would let me forget what I'd done.
