The penthouse was quiet, the city lights casting long shadows across the walls, reflecting in the polished surfaces. Damien sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands, a cocktail of exhaustion, obsession, and longing coursing through him. The events of the past weeks—the rooftop incident, Victoria’s manipulations, Marcus’s attacks—had left him raw, on edge, and acutely aware of what truly mattered. Bella. Their child. Their fragile, complicated love.
He could hear her in the kitchen, moving carefully, deliberately, a soft hum escaping her lips as she prepared tea. The mundane action seemed surreal after the chaos they had endured. Yet, seeing her alive, moving, and present filled him with a sense of purpose that was almost spiritual. He rose, padding silently across the room, the eroti
