Victoria’s POV
The bedroom door clicked shut behind me, and the silence of the room pressed in like a heavy blanket. I leaned against the wood for a moment, eyes closed, trying to steady my breathing. The gala had been a triumph—smiles, applause, praise from everyone. Yet the moment I stepped away from the lights and the music, the emptiness rushed back in.
I kicked off my heels, the cool marble floor a small mercy against my aching feet. The sapphire gown I’d helped Ofelia choose still hung in my mind, along with the way Damien had looked at her on the dance floor. Not at me. At her. That quiet intensity in his eyes. The way his hand lingered on her waist longer than necessary. The almost-kiss I’d pretended not to notice from across the room.
I wasn’t blind. I wasn’t stupid.
My finger
