The penthouse was quiet that evening. I was curled up on the couch with a book I wasn’t really reading, my head resting against Damien’s shoulder. His arm was around me, fingers tracing slow, gentle patterns on my arm. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t forgiveness. But it was something, I still carried the weight of everything he had done, but I was tired of fighting every second.
Damien leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “You okay?” he asked softly.
I nodded. “Yeah. Just thinking. It’s been… a lot.”
He squeezed my shoulder. “I know. I’m trying. I really am.”
Before I could reply, a sharp knock echoed through the penthouse. Damien tensed immediately. No one ever came unannounced. Not here.
“Stay here,” he said, voice low. He stood up and walked toward the entrance. I sat up, heart
