Lena
By noon, everyone in Ashbourne knew my face.
I hated it.
Absolutely hated it.
Not because of the comments online.
Not because of the articles.
Not even because random strangers suddenly had opinions about my relationship with Damien.
It was the loss of anonymity.
The loss of normal.
Three months ago, I could walk into a café and order coffee without anyone caring who I was.
Now?
Apparently I was The Devil of Vale’s Weakness.
Which remained the stupidest headline in human history.
I sat at the kitchen island scrolling through my phone while Damien stood by the windows on a call.
His voice was low.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
The kind of voice that usually meant somebody else’s day was about to get significantly worse.
“…I don’t care how much it costs.”
Pause.
“No.”
Lon
