ADRIAN’S POV

Surely, I’m not the only person who thinks Saturdays are boring. The world outside might be buzzing with weekend energy -people going out, kids ying in yards, couples brunching–but for me, Saturdays are just another reminder that there’s always more to be done.

I ced the ss of whiskey down beside myptop with a light clink and leaned forward again, my fingers dancing over the keyboard, eyes fixed on the screen. Even though today was technically a weekend, and I was the CEO of one of the most powerful corporations in the country, that didn’t mean I had the luxury to sit around and rx.

Progress doesn’t wait. Power doesn’t rest.

My phone vibrated against the ss table, drawing my attention. The name shing on the screen pulled a small smirk to my face. Paul–my trusted supervisor from the financial team. Right on time. I picked it up immediately, already switching to speaker as I continued typing.

“A happy weekend to you, sir,” Paul said, his tone brisk and professional. “I’m almost at your gate.”

“Alright,” I replied, eyes still on the screen, scanning rows of figures. b“/bbI /balready told security to let you in. Juste straight to my study when you get here.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, before the call ended with a soft beep.

I know most people would think I’m insane for calling a staff member over on a Saturdayi, /ibut patience was never my virtue. Especially not now. Especially not with what I was nning. Monday was already packed, and I didn’t want this to drag into the new week.

Everything needed to start falling into bce/bb–/bstarting now.

I’d waited long enough. I gave the old man time to recover. I let them believe they bwere /bsafe, untouched, forgotten. But now that he was out of the hospital and back on his feet, the game resumed. And this time, I wouldn’t be holding back.

This meeting with Paul? Just the first piece of a muchrger puzzle I’d spent months quietly assembling. I had my pieces in position. It was time to make a move.

A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts.

I reached for the bottle and poured another ss of whiskey, the golden liquid catching the dim light of the study, before answering. “Coming,” I said.

The door opened slowly, and Dora stepped inside. She was wearing one of those soft, silk robes she liked lounging around in, her face unreadable but her posture clearly anxiousb. /bShe lingered by the door, hesitant.

“Do you have some spare time?” she asked cautiously. “I’d like to talk to you about something….. personal.”

I blinked, surprised by her tone. It wasn’t like Dora to act nervous.

“Sure,” I said, gesturing to the seat across from my desk. “But make it quick. I’m expecting someone shortly.”

I paused my typing, giving her my full attention now. She wasn’t moving to sit. Instead, she stood still, wringing her hands slightly, like whatever she had to say was weighing heavily on her.

“You know…” she began, her voice low. “We haven’t been us… for the past few months.”

I leaned back slowly in my chair, my eyes narrowing slightly as I looked at her. My mind started piecing together what she was hinting iat/i, but I wasn’t going to finish that thought for her.

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“What do you mean by that?” I asked, my voice calm but guarded.

“Back when everything was still fine between us.”

“Everything is fine between us, Dora,” I interrupted her quickly, almost too quickly.

She looked at me, her eyes narrowing, her frustration barely held back.

“But you’re not how you used to be. We’re not how we used to be,” she shot back without hesitation.

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“Back then, you’d take me out on dates. You used to buy me flowers, leave little notes, and surprise me with thoughtful gifts. You made me feel important, Adrian. Like I mattered to you. Now… I can’t even remember thest time you did any of those things. And let’s not even talk about making me feel special.

Her voice cracked slightly at the end, and I could tell she was holding back more than just tears–she was holding back months of resentment.

“We’ve spoken about this before, and I told you–I’ve been busy,” I replied, the excuse sounding more and more hollow as it left my lips.

“No. This isn’t about being busy,” she said sharply, her tone rising just a bit. “Your hands were equally full back then, but you still made time for me. You found ways to make me bfeel /blike I bwas /bpart of your world. That hasn’t been the case for a long time.”

And she wasn’t wrong. I knew it. Deep down, I had felt it too, but I ignored it. The past few months have changed ia /ilot between us. The truth was that I didn’t see her the same way I once did. Somewhere along the line, we stopped talking about important things.

This bis /bwhymunication matters in any rtionship–without it, even the strongest bonds fade. I had been so obsessed with my long–standing goal, bso /bconsumed by my ns, that I hadn’t noticed the gap widening between us until it had be a canyon.

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose before standing up. I walked toward her slowly, trying to choose my words carefully.

“You’re right,” I admitted. “I’ll admit that I’ve been a jerk these past few months. I let my priorities shift in the wrong direction. I’m done doing that–I don’t want to keep pretending everything’s okay when it’s not.”

I saw her expression shift–hope flickered in her eyes, and for a second, I thought she might smile.

“I’m sorry if I’ve led you on or made you bfeel /blike things

were still the same,” I added, my voice quieter now.

b“/bbYes/b, I did bfeel /bsomething for you. But it’s not there anymore, Dora. bIt’s /blike… it just faded. I didn’t even realize it was happening until it already had.”

Her smile disappeared just bas /bquickly as it came. Her eyes widened slightly, and she took a small step back.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice low, almost afraid of the answer.

“I mean… we can still be friends. We’ve known each other for so long, and I still care about you. But anything beyond that… it wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”

Her breathing grew unsteady, and I saw the emotion finally crack through herposed face.

“Are you saying all this because of her?” she asked, her voice now trembling.

“Who?” I asked, genuinely confused for a second.

“Olivia,” she said, nearly spitting the name. “Because I’ve seen the way you’ve grown a soft side for hertely. You chose to let

16:42 Wed, 21 May M CO

her sleep in your bed over me. Yesterday, you took her out. Don’t act like I didn’t know.”

I blinked. So she knew about that. But how?

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. I didn’t have an answer.

Because I decided to do all those things doesn’t mean I was growing fond of her. Why would she say that?