Across the room, Darcy exchanged polite greetings with the distant relatives clustered around him. To anyone watching, he looked calm, shoulders straight, chin lifted, voice steady. But inside, he loathed every single one of them. They were parasites wearing silk.
They were the same people who, in his previous life, had fed off the crumbling remains of the Ramsy family. When the Ramsys were the target of mockery, these relatives laughed louder than the outsiders. When rumours spread about Darcy's upbringing, they repeated them gleefully. When Micah struggled under the pressure of being the heir, they whispered behind curtains, urging Darcy to fight him, tear the family apart, and grab what "should've been his."
Then, when the dust settled and the chaos ruined everything, they simply stepped forward and enjoyed the benefits.
A bunch of ungrateful, calculating fools.
Darcy had escaped their schemes multiple times.
