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Isabella smiled as she looked at Damian, who had stepped out from behind Paolo.
“You must be… Mr. Damian Salvatore.” She kept her emotions tightly controlled, naturally speaking as if nothing had happened. “It’s an honor to meet you. I’ve heard many heroic tales about the Sword of Justice.”
She gracefully lifted the hem of her dress and bowed elegantly. Her movements held a noble grace that didn’t match the grotesque label of a witch.
Damian scoffed as if dumbfounded and glared at her. “Ha. So you’ve been deceiving people all this time with that shameless act?”
“It seems there’s been a misunderstanding,” Isabella said.
“A misunderstanding? You call this a misunderstanding?” Damian’s face twisted with fury. “Can you still call it that even in front of your father, who raised you?”
He glanced at Paolo and took a step back.
Paolo nodded slightly and stepped forward. “We’ve already gathered all the evidence.”
Isabella cocked her head innocently. “Evidence? Father, I’m not quite...
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