Donovan burst into the room just as I had Marcus pinned against the wall, my forearm crushing against his throat. The lawyer's face had turned an alarming shade of red, his eyes bulging slightly.
"Your Grace!" Donovan exclaimed, his usual composure momentarily shattered.
I didn't release Marcus immediately. The heat of my rage still coursed through my veins, demanding satisfaction. This man had dared to call my unborn children "spawns" – as if they were some kind of vermin rather than the precious heirs Isabella and I had created together.
"Your Grace," Donovan tried again, more firmly this time. "Please."
With great reluctance, I dropped my arm and stepped back. Marcus slumped against the wall, gasping for air, his hand flying to his throat.
"You're... insane," he choked out between ragged breaths.
"No," I replied coldly. "I'm a husband and father who doesn't tolerate disrespect toward his family."
