The penthouse was silent except for the muffled sound of glass shattering against marble floors. Damien paced the length of his luxurious living room, each step fueled by a storm of rage and desperation. His hands trembled—not from weakness, but from the force of his emotions colliding. Empty bottles littered the floor, remnants of whiskey consumed too fast, too deep, in a futile attempt to drown thoughts of Bella.
He slammed his fist against the nearest side table, sending a crystal decanter flying. It shattered, spraying liquid like blood across the polished surface. He didn’t care. Nothing mattered anymore. Not the company, not the stock, not the carefully constructed empire of power and wealth he’d built. She was gone.
His mind replayed the last moments with her—the way her body had
