Damian's POV
My week unfolded in the usual brutal fashion—early mornings, late nights, tight schedules, and the constant pressure of steering a global empire without letting a single fracture slip through the cracks. But despite the avalanche of responsibilities, despite the relentless pace I operated under, my attention kept drifting back to one thing.
Emma.
A ridiculous thing, some would say. In my world, distractions were liabilities. Attachments were weaknesses, and emotional ties were luxuries that executives at my level simply didn't indulge in. And yet, every time I boarded a helicopter, every time my phone vibrated with another crisis that required my direct oversight, every time I stared at a blueprint or financial model demanding my attention, my first thought wasn't the shareholders or the board—
It was whether she had eaten.
Whether she slept well.
Whether she felt safe in that new apartment.
Whether she'd begun sketching again.
