Damian's POV
I didn't sleep.
Not for lack of trying — I'd sat in my office until two, then moved to the sitting room, then given up entirely and stood at the window of my bedroom watching the grounds with the particular restlessness of a man whose mind refused to stop moving.
The folder.
I'd left it in the library deliberately. Not hidden — placed. Available, if she ever reached for it. A decision I'd made in the early weeks, when I'd understood that whatever was happening between us and whatever it was going to become, it would need to be built on something honest or it would collapse the moment weight was applied to it.
I hadn't anticipated the photograph on the corridor wall.
I hadn't anticipated someone inside my house using the folder's existence against me — timing it, placing
