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 ...