Chapter 43HarperGrace slept in fifteen-minute increments those first few weeks, a pattern that left both Damian and me perpetually exhausted, stumbling through hallways at odd hours, trading shifts with the quiet efficiency of two people determined to survive new parenthood together rather than separately.“Your turn,” I mumbled at three in the morning, nudging Damian awake as Grace’s cries drifted through the baby monitor.“Already up,” he said, though his voice carried the particular roughness of someone who’d barely slept in days.I watched him disappear down the hallway, listening to his low, steady voice through the monitor as he settled Grace back to sleep, murmuring something too quiet to make out clearly. Six months ago, I might not have believed this version of Damian existed — the cold, controlled billionaire reduced entirely to soft murmurs and gentle rocking at three in the morning, entirely devoted to a tiny, demanding person who couldn’t yet understand any of it.He re
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