I woke to the sound of my phone buzzing on the nightstand, a sharp intrusion into the restless fog of my dreams. My heart leapt before I even saw the message. Another note from the gallery? Another update from Damian’s team? I sat up, running a hand over my face, trying to shake off the heaviness that had settled over me like a winter coat I couldn’t remove. Leo’s laughter flashed in my mind, bright and pure, and I clutched at that memory like a lifeline. I couldn’t let anyone—Isabella, Damian’s father, or the world—dampen the small universe I had built around him.
The message wasn’t urgent—it was worse. It was subtle, a quiet reminder that I wasn’t as untouchable as I liked to believe. A note from one of the event planners for the upcoming gala: a change in the schedule, a last-minute in
