The penthouse felt too quiet when Emma woke.
Sunlight streamed through the curtains, painting the room in gold, but the bed beside her was empty. The sheets were still warm, the faint scent of Damien’s cologne lingering on the pillow.
She sat up, running a hand through her tangled hair.
Yesterday felt like a dream.
A dream where she wasn’t Emma Jones, the neglected wife. Where she wasn’t drowning in debts and hospital bills. Where, for just a few hours, she had let herself pretend she was someone who mattered.
But morning brought reality crashing back. Damien was hurt when he came back. Where was he off to? To see a doctor? There was no point in calling either since his phone was missing!
She dressed quickly in the clothes Damien had left for her— soft black leggings and a
