Davina's POV
"Irvin Todd created Pocho."
I shot up from my chair so quickly it nearly toppled over.
My hands shook as I gripped the edge of the table, steadying myself while my heart hammered against my ribs like it was trying to escape.
"We need to leave," I said, my voice coming out harsher than I meant. I reached for Cooper instantly, and my little boy slipped from his seat without hesitation, his small fingers wrapping around mine.
Cooper didn't complain. He didn't whine or demand to know why we were rushing out so abruptly.
His young gaze swept over my face with an intensity that seemed far too mature for someone so small. He understood something was wrong. He couldn't grasp what, but he felt the shift in me—the way my forced smile crumbled, the slight crack in my voice when I spoke.
My son stayed quiet. Instead, he squeezed my hand firmly, as if he sensed I needed his strength as much as he needed mine.
