'But no.'
Damien shook the thought loose.
Not yet.
He'd made a bet. He'd drawn a line in the sand, looked her dead in the eye and promised results. If he went crawling for help now, tail between his legs, begging for notes?
That wasn't progress. That was groveling.
And he wasn't that man anymore.
Even if the idea made sense—Isabelle was reliable, organized, probably had every lecture digitized and timestamped to hell and back—it still felt wrong.
Too soon. Too shameless.
No, he'd show results first. Earn a sliver of leverage before making the ask. Not out of pride—but out of principle. Because this wasn't just about catching up.
It was about redefining who Damien Elford was.
And that—
That's when his eyes caught it.
And that—
That's when his eyes caught it.
Near the front corner of the room, just before the side doors that opened to the upper garden path, a cluster had gathered.
