That morning, Damian was dressed in a black Armani suit and a dark gray tie. Calmly, he stood by the bedroom door, watching Shopia as she brushed her hair in front of the mirror.
“I have to head to the office. There’s an important meeting with the board of investors,” he said quietly.
Shopia only nodded. She didn’t say much that morning. The previous night still lingered in her body and mind—how Damian had treated her, relentlessly, without pause.
Damian stepped closer. “Remember, Shopia. Never try to leave this house. It’s not just a rule—it’s protection. You know how cruel I can be when you disobey.”
Their eyes met. Shopia swallowed hard. “I know. I’ll stay.”
He kissed her forehead briefly, then left. As the sound of Damian’s car engine faded, Shopia stood by the window for a long m
