Damien's POV
The whisky burns going down, but not nearly as much as the rage burning through my chest.
I pace the length of the living room; it's Aria's living room now, though my feet have worn this path into the carpet over the years of living here. Back and forth, back and forth, my shoes making angry thuds against the hardwood that echo through the space like accusations. Each step feels heavier than the last, weighed down by the magnitude of what I've lost.
Everything. I've lost everything.
"How?" The word rips out of me for the fifth time in as many minutes. I spin to face James Whitmore, my attorney, my expensive attorney who's supposed to be the best in New York. The man I've paid hundreds of thousands of dollars over the years to keep my affairs airtight.
"How the hell did y
