“…I need your help.”
—
Damian met me at a quiet café the next morning. The sight of him made my chest tighten.
Years had passed, but he hadn’t changed. The same calm presence, the same quiet strength. He looked like he belonged in a world far above mine—dressed in a tailored black suit, powerful, confident, untouchable. But when he looked at me, his dark eyes softened.
“Tell me everything,” he said, his voice gentle.
And so I did. I told him about Marco’s betrayal. About Selena. About Celeste. I told him how I felt like I was suffocating, drowning in a marriage that had long stopped being real. By the time I finished, my hands were trembling.
Damian leaned back, studying me carefully. “You should have come to me sooner.”
I let out a hollow laugh. “I thought I could handle it.”
His jaw tightened, frustration flickering across his face. “You don’t have to anymore.”
My breath hitched. “You’d really help me disappear?”
His gaze softened. “Olivia, I would do anything for you.”
Something inside me cracked. There was a time when I could have loved him. Maybe I still did.
—