Damian's POV
For weeks, I'd been grasping at shadows, trying desperately to understand where Scarlett and I had gone wrong. Every day felt like walking through a minefield, never knowing what might set her off next. Her constant irritation hung in the air between us, a barrier I couldn't seem to breach no matter how hard I tried.
The uncertainty had bled into my work life. I'd been functioning on autopilot, barely registering the new assistant who had replaced Owen. There was something vaguely familiar about her, though I couldn't place it. She moved like a ghost through the office—efficient, invisible, yet somehow managing to organize everything perfectly. The work got done, my desk remained immaculate, but I'd hardly exchanged more than a few words with her.
