The days and nights ceased to be distinct markers of time; they blurred into a seamless, gilded haze of indulgence and agony. For Rose, the world had shrunk to the size of Damien’s shadow. The opulent penthouse, the sleek armored cars, and the hidden villas across the Tuscan countryside were merely different rooms in the same magnificent cage.

Damien’s love was a tidal wave—all-consuming, suffocating, and absolute. When he looked at her in the quiet moments, his eyes held a devotion that was almost religious. He would spend hours simply watching her sleep, his hand tracing the line of her jaw with a tenderness that felt like a prayer. He showered her with gifts that could buy entire city blocks—emerald gowns that clung to her skin, rare books from lost libraries, and diamonds that felt like weights around her neck and wrists.