Emma sat in the car like a porcelain doll—silent, rigid, fragile.
She kept stealing glances at Damien as he drove, every muscle in his jaw tight, every breath clipped with barely contained fury.
Why is he so angry?
His identity had just been revealed. His fiancée had just been publicly announced.
Nothing about this moment made sense.
By the time they entered the elevator, the silence had turned suffocating. Emma’s brows furrowed, confusion and frustration pressing down on her.
When they reached her apartment door, she pushed it open, and then froze.
Davis was inside, helping the babysitter pack boxes.
Ethan was running around, tossing toys toward a half-filled carton.
Emma’s stomach dropped. “What the hell is going on here?” she snapped, her glare slicing straight to Damien.
“Mom
