The study was dimly lit, the air heavy with the scent of aged whiskey and tension. Damian sat alone in his leather chair, a glass of amber liquid in his hand, swirling it slowly. The video kept replaying in his mind like a cursed loop — Aria, laughing and dancing with strange men, their hands all over her. The humiliation. The betrayal. The noise of the party. The gossip. The stares. It all felt like a knife twisting in his gut.
With a growl, Damian hurled the whiskey glass against the wall. It shattered into tiny shards, the sharp sound echoing through the room.
At that exact moment, Lyla stepped in, the crash making her flinch. She had been hovering outside, waiting for the right time to strike. Her eyes darted to the broken glass, then to Damian, his eyes bloodshot, jaw tight, fists c
