Damien’s POV

One Year Later

I sat in my study, the air in the room heavy with the scent of old books and the glass of whiskey set carefully on the table.

Papers were spread across my desk, yet my eyes weren’t really seeing them.

I just came here for the silence more than anything.

Just then, a knock came, light but firm.

“Come in,” I muttered, not looking up.

The door creaked open and Martha stepped in. She was clutching her phone tightly in her arm. “Sir, have ...