Damien stood there in a black suit, looking like an avenging angel.
The previously bustling banquet hall fell instantly silent.
Marianne, frightened by her son’s expression, took a step back and stammered, “Damien… Son, I was just doing this for your own good…”
“For my own good?”
Damien let out a cold laugh, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes.
“Humiliating my wife in public, reopening her old wounds, and dragging her name through the mud—is this what you call ‘for my own good’?”
Marianne stiffened her neck. “Was anything I said untrue? Did her father come asking for money or not? Is her sister in a mental institution or not? A woman from a family like that will only drag you down!”
“Drag me down?”
Damien looked as if he’d just heard the most ridiculous joke.
He turned, not looking at Marianne, but pulled Grace into his arms in front of everyone.
“Listen up.”
Damien’s voice was deep and powerful, carrying to every corner of the hall.
“If Grace’s father wants money, that’s his failure.”
“But I, Damien Clarke, have plenty of it.”
“Even if he asked for a mountain of gold, if Grace wanted me to, I could give it to him.”
“As for her ex-husband…”
Damien’s gaze swept over the socialites who had been gossiping the loudest, and their faces turned pale with fear.
“What do Ethan’s debts have to do with Grace?”
“The Hart family’s mess… if Grace wants it gone, I can settle any amount they owe. I’m not short on cash. Consider it a small price to pay to give Grace some peace and quiet, like tossing change to a beggar.”
The entire room erupted in whispers.
Grace looked up, staring at the strong line of his jaw.
Her eyes began to burn.
“As for the mental illness…”
Damien spoke again, his gaze landing on Marianne, turning exceptionally cold.
“Some people should know better than anyone why Grace’s sister is in a mental institution.”
Among the onlookers, someone immediately recalled the recent news about Lilian’s attempted murder.
Grace shook her head, the moisture in her eyes finally forming into tears that rolled down her cheeks.
“No.”
“Silly girl.”
Damien reached out and wiped her tears away, his touch incredibly soft.
The surrounding guests watched the scene with mixed feelings.
Those who had been hoping for a spectacle now felt as if they’d been slapped across the face.
Talk about a doting husband.
This was it.
He wouldn’t even give his own mother face, and he was even willing to take on the entire Hart family’s mess.
That kind of love was something to be envied.
Veronica stood in a corner, watching Damien carefully cup Grace’s face as if he were holding a priceless treasure.
It was a look she had never seen in his eyes before.
Even with her, his supposed childhood friend, Damien had always been cold and professional.

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