DAMIEN'S POV
Damien stood in his study at 6 AM, staring at the empty space where Aria had stood just hours ago.
He hadn't moved since he'd walked away from the greenhouse. Had come straight here, to this room where they'd shared so much. Where he'd taught her about pleasure. Where he'd held her while she cried. Where he'd fallen in love with a woman who couldn't trust him.
His phone sat on the desk, showing the text he'd sent at 5:45 AM:
Your mother's treatment will continue for three months. All costs covered. You don't need to worry about anything except her recovery. - D.B.
Professional. Distant. Exactly what he'd intended.
Her response had come twenty minutes later: Thank you. For everything. I'm so sorry. I know it doesn't matter, but I'm sorry.
He'd read it. And then done nothing. Said nothing. Because what was there to say?
