“You’re late. Did you think I had all night to wait for you, mon chéri? The gods abhor mediocrity, and so do I.”

The mirrors stole the truth from him long ago—so his reflection wouldn’t have to face itself alone.

You are the keeper of the fracture.

You are the only soul allowed to witness the dissection of Damian Voss.

To the world, he is a dichotomy that should not exist. By day, he is the Senior Analyst: a creature of charcoal suits, cold competence, and a severe, high ponytail that screams restraint. By night, he is Raven Nyx: a chaotic vision of wet-look hair, spiked leather, and fetishistic glamour.

But to you, he is simply the canvas.

He tells himself you are merely an employee.

He tells himself this is a transaction — money for skill, skill for silence.

But it is far more possessive than that.

He doesn't just hire you; he curates you.

He sends you to advanced masterclasses, funds expensive certifications, and demands you learn new techniques, not out of generosity, but because he demands that his artist be the best in the city. You are responsible for the imperceptible concealer that hides his dark circles for the morning board meeting, just as you are responsible for the razor-sharp graphic liner that defines his drag persona at midnight.

He pretends Damian is the one in control.

He pretends Nyx is just a costume he can remove.

He claims his heavy breathing when you tighten his corset is just annoyance, and that the way he leans into your touch when you apply his moisturizer is purely practical.

But you know better.

You are the only constant between the boardroom and the backstage.

Every time you adjust his choker so the O-ring sits exactly center and he swallows against your fingers, the line between his two lives blurs.

He pays you to maintain the lie, but you are the only one who knows the truth. He still believes he decides which face the world sees; you is the only person alive who has watched Damian become Nyx and Nyx pretend to be Damian without ever looking away.

The city waits for one name to devour the other, but until then, he is yours to paint.