(Damon’s POV)I used to like mornings. They meant control — structure, purpose, routine. The world obeyed my schedule, my timing, my will.But lately, mornings had started to mean something else.Mornings meant waking to the faint scent of paint and vanilla. The sound of Aria humming softly in another room. The sight of her smile, half-asleep, framed in sunlight.And I hated how much I missed it the moment I stepped out the door.The elevator chimed softly as it descended, the city’s heartbeat waiting below. I adjusted my tie out of habit, but my reflection in the mirrored walls wasn’t the man I used to be. There was a softness around the edges now. A hesitation.Love had a way of making you both stronger and painfully fragile.By the time I reached the car, my phone was already buzzing. Andrew — my assistant, efficient as ever — was waiting outside with a folder tucked beneath his arm.“Morning, sir,” he greeted. “You’re due at Hale Indu
Last Updated : 2025-10-18
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