..........
Across town, Damian sat in his mansion’s study. His tie hung loose, his eyes bloodshot. He hadn’t opened the news. He didn’t need to. The guilt from the night at the bar gnawed at him enough. He had lost Emery, and he believed it was his fault.
He opened a drawer and pulled out a silk scarf — one of the few Emery had left behind. Pressing it to his face, he inhaled the faint scent that lingered. His chest tightened.
Why did he feel empty, even with Clara flaunting herself at his side?
Because it wasn’t Emery. It could never be Emery.
.....
Meanwhile, Emery curled herself into her bed. She pressed her fists to her mouth to stop the sobs from waking Ethan. But the pain was too much.
“Forget him,” she whispered to herself, over and over, like a mantra. “Forget him. Forget hi
