That night, Damian sat alone in his bedroom, sleeves rolled up, laptop open but untouched.

His phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

He frowned slightly, then opened the message.

The image loaded slowly.

Aria.

Standing too close to Lucas.

Lucas leaning in, smiling. Aria’s face turned slightly toward him, caught mid-moment, ambiguous, intimate enough to sting.

Damian’s jaw tightened.

For a long second, he just stared.

Disappointment settled in quietly. Not loud. Not explosive.

Worse.

Cold.

“So this is it…” he muttered.

He locked the phone, tossed it onto the bed, and leaned back against the chair.

“Women,” he scoffed under his breath. “Never to be trusted.”

He didn’t ask questions. Didn’t...