Elena’s P.O.V.
The sun was high over the Chicago skyline, casting long golden beams through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Damian’s master bedroom.
For the first time in three years, I woke up without a crushing weight on my chest. There was no dread about Julian’s fake smiles. There was no fear of Sophia’s hidden cruelty. The silent nightmare I had lived in for so long was over, replaced by a deep, heavy stillness that felt almost strange to my body.
I shifted slightly against the silk sheets, feeling a powerful arm anchored firmly across my waist.
Damian was lying right beside me, half-covered by the dark bedding. His dark hair was slightly messy, resting against his forehead, and his face looked surprisingly peaceful in the morning light. Without his sharp suits and cold glare, he
