Damian's POV
The city shone with bright colourful lights outside Damian's penthouse window, but he barely noticed. Manhattan at night was a spectacle, colourful lights bleeding into the sky, car horns echoing through the avenues, the restless heartbeat of power and greed. It was the kind of view men killed for, the kind of view he had built his empire to own.
And yet, all he could see was that envelope.
It sat on the table like a curse, its thick ivory paper folded neatly, mocking him. His father's words played on repeat in his head.
Damian poured himself a drink, the crystal glass reflecting the city lights as he swallowed a mouthful of his scotch. The burn in his throat was nothing compared to the turmoil in his chest. Gregory had no right to dictate his life. He wasn't some weak
