Six months later.
Rain fell in soft, steady sheets against the windows of the Voss estate. The world outside was blurred—green lawns soaked to a dark sheen, gray skies heavy with unspoken promises. Inside, the once-cold mansion felt warmer now, as if something—or someone—had carved out a space for light to settle.
Elena stood by the window, her hands curled around a porcelain teacup, watching the storm. She wasn't afraid of storms anymore.
She had walked through one and survived it.
Behind her, the fireplace crackled to life. Damien's footsteps padded softly across the floor until she felt the familiar weight of his arms wrap around her waist. He rested his chin on her shoulder, silent for a moment.
"Still watching the world like it might unravel?"
Elena smiled faintly. "Just making sure it doesn't."
He kissed her neck, his warmth sinking into her skin. "It won't. Not while you're in it."
The past six months had not been perfect. Trust once shattered took time to rebuild. But they had done it—brick by brick, confession by confession. Therapy sessions, sleepless nights, quiet understanding. Damien had stepped away from the darker corners of his empire, handing over some of the more ruthless operations to trusted allies, refocusing on more legitimate ventures.
Lucien had vanished after the fire at the Voss summer estate, but they knew better than to believe he was gone for good. Shadows like him didn't die easily. But for now, he was no longer between them.
"I still don't know what to do with this peace," Elena admitted.
Damien turned her gently to face him. "Then we figure it out together."
She looked up at him, no longer haunted by the ghosts of their past, only shaped by them. His touch no longer scorched. It healed.
She leaned in, pressing her forehead to his.
And for the first time in a long time, they breathed in sync.
Together.
**