The next morning, Aria was fully dressed and ready for work. She adjusted her jacket, picked up her bag, then paused.

She turned and walked toward Damian’s room.

She knocked once.

No answer.

She opened the door slightly. Empty.

“Huh,” she muttered. “Miracle.”

She headed downstairs and found him in the living room, seated with a cup of tea, looking very much alive and very grumpy.

Aria stopped in front of him and crossed her arms.

“Here you are,” she said. “I thought you’d gone to commit suicide.”

Damian nearly choked. “Aria Carter, please let me be.”

She tilted her head. “Correction. It’s Mrs. Cross.”

He stared at her. “Don’t...