Chapter 11: (Sophia’s POV) The first morning after the press conference dawned with blinding sunlight, spilling through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows like it owned the place. I stretched on the edge of the bed, blinking at the brightness, still not used to waking up in a penthouse that looked more like an art gallery than a home. Everything gleamed — glass, chrome, marble. Not a smudge, not a fingerprint, not a hint of life. Even the air felt too clean, like it had been filtered of anything remotely human. Damien’s world was built on perfection. Mine had always thrived on imperfection — messy sketches, mismatched mugs, the smell of burnt toast. Which was why, standing barefoot in the kitchen, staring at a counter the size of my old apartment, I made a decision. I was going to make breakfast. For once, something in this place was going to smell like food, not floor polish. I rummaged through cupboards that looked decorative rather than functional until I found flour, e
Last Updated : 2025-11-01 Read more