Damien pov
I drove home on autopilot, my mind racing through memories I'd spent three years trying to bury in therapy sessions and work and anything that would keep me from thinking about what I'd done.
I pulled into my penthouse garage and took the private elevator up to my apartment, standing in the middle of my living room and looking at everything I'd built. It was all cold perfection—expensive furniture that no one ever sat on, art that no one ever looked at, windows that overlooked a city I barely saw. Everything here was dead in the way that I'd been dead for thirty-one years, until Aria had walked into my life with her quiet intelligence and unexpected kindness and made me feel things I'd never let myself feel before.
And I'd thrown her away like she was nothing, when she was actually everything.
