Damian Moretti sat alone in his father’s study, though the man who had ruled these halls was long buried. The walls still carried the scent of cigars and leather, the heavy silence of judgment. A single glass of whiskey rested on the desk before him, untouched, as though even fire couldn’t burn away the knots in his chest.
The night replayed in fragments. Adriana’s trembling voice. Her accusation. The sharp sting in her eyes when she said silence was killing her.
He had faced bullets without blinking, blood without hesitation. But her words cut deeper than any blade.
For the first time in years, Damian felt powerless.
She thinks I don’t care. That I let Isabella claim me because it means nothing.
But the truth was worse. He cared too much. He knew the moment he shattered Isabella’s fa
