Damian's POV
"Message received my foot!" Evander growled, gritting his teeth as he leaned back in his chair, exhaling deeply to keep his composure. "Well… to be honest, I am not that mad now since I talked it out with Claire. And, moreover, you are my friend. No matter what kind of leech you are, I know one thing—you fear death." He said it so casually that I couldn't help but glare at him.
"You have done me such a great favor by acknowledging my fear of dying," I retorted, rolling my eyes. "Either way, I have already got a plan to refute all these rumors soon."
Evander's eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Damn it, Damian. How much more of a mess are you planning to make now?" His tone was exasperated, but there was a spark of curiosity in his gaze, like he couldn't resist knowing what I was scheming.
"It's not a mess," I replied, smirking slightly. "It's damage control. There is a difference, you know."
