Chapter 70

Addy’s POV

I blinked when she called him Oscar. Oscar. Not Damien. But the little brass plaque on the desk—Oscar Mercer, Est. 1963—explained everything: maybe he’d been Oscar before the near-death drama, and changed to Damien to outrank Death itself. Still, I couldn’t wrap my head around why he’d left his mother in the dark. The poor woman’s face was still pinched from heartbreak; why let her stew in misery?

“I’m so sorry,” I murmured, voice barely louder than a breeze.

“I am too.” Her apology sounded like it might shatter.

After rubbing at her glossy eyes, she straightened her shoulders and offered me a shaky half-grin. “I need to start inventory, but don’t forget to let us know what you decide—about the job, and dinner tonight.”

I flashed her a quick smile, trying to look like I hadn’t spent the last two seconds attempting to swallow my own tongue. “I will. Thank you.”

Then she looked down at Rocky—Damien’s wolf, but Britt’s temporary fou