DAMON'S POV The penthouse felt like a fucking tomb. I stood in the middle of the living room after Eve left, the door still clicking shut in my head like it was the loudest sound I’d ever heard. The place was too quiet, too big. Too full of ghosts. I could still smell her vanilla lotion in the air, still see the little dent on the couch where she liked to curl up with her hand on her belly. Now it was just me. Alone with everything I’d done. I walked over to the big windows and stared out at the city lights, but I wasn’t really seeing them. My head was too loud. The memories weren’t coming in flashes anymore... they were just there, sitting heavy in my chest like they’d always belonged. No gaps, no blurry edges. Everything. I remembered signing those divorce papers in the hospital room. Sophia on her bed, crying those perfect fake tears, telling me Eve had pushed her. I remembered the cold certainty I felt when I picked up the pen. I hadn’t even called Eve, hadn’t given her a
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