Damon's POV
"Damon? Damon!"
The sharp tone of my own voice cut through the haze as I sat up in bed, head pounding like a jackhammer. My vision wavered—too bright for a morning so early.
I blinked against the light, trying to orient myself. The sheets felt luxuriously familiar, and yet I couldn't remember how I'd gotten here. My watch read 7:12 AM.
"What… happened?" I croaked, throat dry.
A soft chime drew my attention to my phone on the nightstand. Unlocked screensaver. A cascade of notifications. Hundreds of red icons pulsed. Text messages. Emails. Social media alerts. I captured a breath—something was very wrong.
I fumbled for the phone and swiped into the news app. The top story splashed across the screen, bold and merciless:
"Scandal Rocks Westin Industries CEO: Intimate Photos Surface!"
