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That made him pause.

“I trust my son,” I continued. “I don’t trust how this started or the Laveau family.”

His fingers flexed against the blanket.

“You’re projecting,” he said.

“No. I’m remembering.”

That quieted him.

“I knew that girl since she was a baby,” I went on. “I knew one day she’d be chosen. I just didn’t think it would happen like this. Not while she’s still bleeding from whatever they did to her.”

Marcel’s eyes shifted to the ceiling.

“You think I enjoy forcing my grandson into a contract?”

“I think you enjoy control.”

That made him look at me again.

“You came back,” he said. “You sit here. You advocate. You act like you’re not part of the same machine.”

“I am part of it,” I said calmly. “But I won’t let it swallow her the way it almost swallowed me.”

He studied me long and hard.

“You’ve always been dramatic.”

“I’ve always been honest.”

He exhaled, tired.

“Ares will be stronger than we were.”

“He better be.”

He watched my face carefully, like he was looking for hesitation. There wasn’t any.

“And you still hate me.”

I shook my head slowly.

“I don’t hate you. I just remember.”

For a long moment, neither of us spoke.

“You owe me,” I said quietly.

His mouth pressed into a thin line.

“You think I don’t regret it?” he said.

“I think regret doesn’t undo anything.”

His eyes drifted back to my necklace.

“You always choose powerful men.”