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The drive back to the penthouse was quiet, almost like a somber trip through a graveyard.

“We’re here, sir,” the driver announced, breaking the heavy silence.

“Oh,” Damian muttered. As the car came to a halt, a servant quickly opened the door for him. Without looking back, Damian stepped out and walked briskly toward the entrance. His demeanor was cold and distant, something Elara had grown accustomed to over the time she had spent with him. She exited the luxurious car without a word and headed straight inside.

“Welcome, ma’am,” the maids greeted with a bow. Elara forced a smile and waved.

“Thank you,” she replied, exhaustion laced in her voice. All she wanted was to collapse into her bed. She was about to open the door to her room when she noticed a shadow behind her.

“Who?” she spun around.

“Who else could it be?” Damian replied with a scoff, stepping into the light.

“Why are you here?” Elara asked, opening her door. “Whatever you want to say can wait until tomorrow.”

“I guess you