I woke up with the taste of last night's tears still on my face.
The penthouse was silent, but it didn't feel empty. Not anymore. Although Damian had given me the needed space but I'd felt his presence in the way the sheets were turned down and a glass of water waited on the nightstand.
He didn't say much. He never did. But he did things.
I got up, washed my face, and went to the studio. The collection pieces were due for a final review with the Alder & Co. team in two days. I needed to be ready. Work had always been my escape. Now it was becoming my life.
At ten, a knock came at the studio door.
I looked up, expecting Marco. Instead, a woman stood there tall, poised, with sleek dark hair and a tablet in her hand. She wore a simple black dress, professional but not flashy.
"Good morn
