Drugged

WHITAKER MANSION

Damien lounged in the dimly lit room of the sprawling Whitaker Mansion, a glass of bourbon in his hand. His sharp features were illuminated only by the glow of the laptop screen before him. A video played, capturing the joyous celebration at Vivian's wedding. His expression remained indifferent until his eyes settled on a particular figure—Anna, swaying gracefully in Alexander's arms on the dance floor.

His grip tightened around the glass as his gaze lingered on her. The soft curve of her smile, the way her dress moved with her, and the shy glances she gave Alexander ignited a dark gleam in Damien's eyes. He leaned forward, replaying the clip again, but this time his focus was solely on Anna.

He smiled, but it wasn't a smile of admiration. It was one of cold calculation.

"Interesting," he murmured, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.