Damien's POV
The silence in the office was a living, breathing thing, heavy with accusation. Zendaya stood there, her eyes, usually so warm and trusting, now pools of hurt and betrayal. Diana had vanished, a ghost in the periphery, but her scent, metallic and triumphant, still lingered like a taunt.
I could feel Midnight pacing, roaring in my mind, a furious storm of regret and desperation. "Zendaya," I began, my voice a raw whisper, reaching for her. My hand hovered, uncertain, knowing I might only make it worse. "It's not what it looked like, love. Please."
She flinched, pulling back as if my touch would burn her. "Not what it looked like?" Her voice was low, trembling, but sharp, cutting me deeper than any blade. "I saw her, Damien. On you. Kissing you. And you… you let her."
