June 20, 2026.
The interview day arrived like a storm I’d been watching on the horizon.
I woke up at Damien’s—had been most nights since the first family dinner. His side of the bed was empty, coffee already brewing downstairs.
He met me in the kitchen, handed me a mug, kissed my forehead.
“You’ll kill it.”
I nodded.
But my stomach churned.
The agency—Apex Creative—was in the heart of the city. Glass tower, thirty-second floor, views that made you feel on top of the world.
I wore the black blazer dress we’d picked together—professional, fitted, with the star necklace tucked under the collar.
Damien drove me to the train station.
Parked.
Walked me to the platform.
Held my hand until the train pulled in.
“I’ll be waiting right here when you get back,” he said.
I kissed him—quic
