Damion’s POV
I stood in front of the mirror, the one in the bathroom I hadn’t used in weeks, watching the water drip from the edge of the sink. My face looked older than I remembered—less polished, more worn. The man looking back at me was a stranger. Or maybe, he was finally the real one.
The one stripped of power. Stripped of illusions.
And, for the first time in years, I felt clear.
No more alcohol. No more hiding behind boardroom masks.
I’d been sleepwalking through my own life, letting my father pull the strings, letting Kaia poison everything I touched.
But that was over.
It had to be.
I cleaned up, shaved, and pulled on the first tailored suit I hadn’t worn in a long time. Not because I wanted to impress anyone—but because I needed to feel like I still belonged in this fight
