The penthouse was a tomb of silence, save for the sharp crunch of glass beneath Damien’s polished shoes. A shattered tumbler lay in glittering fragments near the floor-to-ceiling windows, remnants of his earlier rage.
Damien paced back and forth, like a panther.
Davis stepped inside, his presence a quiet intrusion. He took in the scene— the broken glass, the tension coiling off Damien like smoke.
“You’re going to cut yourself if you keep walking like that,” he remarked, voice dry.
Damien didn’t stop. His fingers flexed at his sides, nails digging into his palms. “What do you want, Davis?”
“There's something you need to know.” Davis exhaled, bracing himself. “Emma is pregnant.”
The words struck like a blade. Damien froze mid-step, his spine rigid. Slowly, he turned, his eyes— d
