The morning sun cut through the tall windows of the Steele penthouse, but even the light seemed heavy. It spread across marble counters, polished wood, silver fixtures all gleaming perfection. Yet the air itself felt suffocating, thick with invisible threads that clung to Sierra’s skin.
She sat at the breakfast table, her spoon unmoving in her bowl. The gala still clung to her like a bruise. Every glance, every whisper, every lingering touch from Damien in the ballroom haunted her. It had been exhilarating and terrifying at once. For the first time, they hadn’t been careful. For the first time, Damien had dared the world to look.
And Vanessa had seen it all.
Now she was across the kitchen, radiant in an emerald silk robe, slicing fruit with the precision of a surgeon. Her hair was perfe
