Damian's POV
The drive to her office was quiet—just the two of us, the hum of the engine, soft music playing low in the background.
I kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the center console where her hand found mine easily, her fingers curling around mine like it was the most natural thing in the world.
At a red light, I glanced over and saw her scrolling through her phone, her expression shifting from curiosity to satisfaction.
"What is it?" I asked.
"The story about Clara," she said, still reading. "It's everywhere. The screenshots, the police investigation... everything."
I said nothing, just watched her face.
She looked up at me, her eyes searching. "Damian... did you do this?"
I didn't bother lying. "You were attacked. I handled it."
"I didn't
