–Damon–
Seeing a new face in the residence instantly piqued my curiosity—and maybe set off a few internal alarms. Who was this woman? She was tall, with a presence that commanded the room without trying. Something about her felt… sharp, like she knew more than she let on. And she looked oddly familiar, which only made my mind itch harder for answers.
Her hair was impossible to miss—curly, cascading waves dyed in a smoky gray that faded into a soft pink at the ends, like the sky just before dawn. It bounced with each step she took, too confidently for someone who didn't live here. Near her collarbone, a tattoo teased my attention. Just a glimpse of dark ink against skin, but I couldn't make out the design from this angle. Not that I was ogling—absolutely not. I was just being observant. Hyper-observant. The way a husband should be.
She didn't even look at me properly—just one uninterested glance, as if I were a piece of furniture. Rude. But fine. I clocked every detail anyway.
