The ballroom glittered with chandeliers, laughter, and the clink of crystal. To anyone watching, Damian Moretti looked like a king among wolves — black suit tailored to perfection, silver cufflinks catching the light, his hand resting lightly at the small of Isabella Rossi’s back.To everyone but him, it was a scene of triumph.To Damian, it was a cage.“Smile,” Isabella whispered, her ruby lips brushing the edge of his ear as she leaned close enough to look intimate. “They’re watching.”Damian’s jaw tightened. He forced a half-smile for the benefit of the room, but his eyes scanned the crowd, searching for a ghost.Adriana.He couldn’t stop picturing her — not in a gown, not free, but shackled in some dungeon under her father’s watch. Her hair matted, her lips split. And all the while, Isabella stood here beside him, wearing victory like perfume.“Stop looking for her,” Isabella purred, pressing her hand to his chest as though she could read his thoughts. “She’s gone, Damian. She was
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