Damien’s POV
The ding came again. Sharp. Insistent. A reminder that no matter how tightly I tried to lock down my world, Cleo would always find a way in.
I turned to Isabella—no, Ariana now. My voice cut through the air like a blade.
“You’re my fiancée. From today henceforth, you sleep in my bed.”
Her lips parted. Confusion flickered in her wide, glassy eyes.
“If you want to live,” I added, softer but deadlier, “you follow my rules. Understood?”
She nodded. Hesitantly. Slowly. The same way someone nods at a loaded gun.
The sound of the doorbell echoed through the penthouse like a shotgun blast.
I didn’t move, still studied her carefully. What if she tries something funny. But she didn’t.
Isabella’s lips parted slightly, breath trembling. I could see her calculating—whether to run,
