ADRIAN’S POV

The night air outside was cold, but not colder than the silence I carried with me.

I stood outside, near the balcony that overlooked the front of the house, letting the soft wind p against my face. My hands gripped the rail tightly as if bit /bcould ground me, but not even steel could hold me down tonight. My chest still rose and fell faster than normal. My heart wasn’t racing because of lust

orexcitement.

It was guilt.

Because I let her touch me. Because for one brief, fleeting moment, I had pretended someone else was her. Olivia. And because for the first time since! killed her adoptive parents, I truly questioned if I was losing bmy /bmind.

I hadn’t meant for it to go that far. When Dora touched me, I had nned to shove her away. I didn’t want her. But I saw Olivia. Her face. Her scent. Her

voice.

And I let myself slip.

I hated myself for it.

The door behind me creaked open. I didn’t turn to look. I knew it was her.

“Adrian,” Dora’s soft voice called.

“Not now,” I said firmly.

She stepped closer. I could feel her behind me. Still wearing that red dress. Still desperate for validation I had no interest in giving her.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked, her voiceced with confusion, maybe a bit of hurt. But not regret. No, she had nned that seduction.

I sighed, dragging a hand over my face. “You didn’t do anything I didn’t expectb./bb” /b

“Then why did you leave?” Her tone shifted slightly. Defensive. “We were finally connecting.”

I turned now, looking her dead in the eye. “We weren’t connecting. You were ying a role, and I was desperate enough to fall into the illusion. That’s not a connection, Dora. That’s maniption.”

Her eyes narrowed, and for the first time, the mask cracked. “So what, you want me to just sit here and do nothing? I’m trying, Adrian. I’m trying to be here for you, give you what you need…”

“What I need died months ago,” I snapped.

The wordsnded like a p. Her face paled. Silence settled between us,

I didn’t feel sorry.

She turned away, arms crossed. “You keep living in the past, you know that? You keep chasing ghosts, Adrian.”

“And you keep pretending like you’re not trying to be one,” I said. “You’re trying to crawl into a space that bisn’t /byoursb./bb” /b

She said nothing.

I pushed past her and walked into the room. The clock ticked on the wall. Past midnight. A new day had started, but nothing

b…/bbfferent/bb. /b

I opened the drawer near my bed and pulled out a small ck notebook. Since I basically had no one else to bspeak to/bb, /bbI’ve /bbbeen /bbjotting /bbsome /bthings

down as of recent

EU 40 UUTE

I sat down and flipped through it. My finger hovered over the pages filled with scribbled memories and revenge notes. Everything bhad /bled me here. Everything I did was for her. For my mother. For the pain they caused.

So why the hell did I still feel hollow?

Behind me, Dora was still standing, watching me from the doorway.

“Why are you still here?” I asked without looking up.

“Because,” she said, “I think there’s still something left in you worth reaching.”

I scoffed. “You’re not the one who gets to decide that.”

She took a tentative step forward. “Maybe not. But I won’t stop trying.”

“Then you’ll keep getting disappointed.”

I stood, cing the notebook back in the drawer.

“We leave for the North Estate tomorrow,” I told her. “Pack light. We’re not staying long.b” /b

“Why? What’s at the North Estate?”

“Business. And the past.”

I didn’t owe her more than that.

It was time.

Because now that the Graysons were gone, there was one more loose end to tie.

My phone buzzed where ity on the table, a sharp vibration against the wood that sliced through the silence.

I reached for it slowly, as though I already knew what was waiting.

A message from Dan.

“Bodies disposed of. No loose ends. All clean.”

My thumb hovered above the screen. The words stared back at meb, /bcold and final. Another mess buried, Another secret wrapped in shadows.

I read the message again. And then once more.

Three lines to summarize the end of two lives. Efficient. Emotionless. Dan was good at that.

I finally typed back: “Good. Lay low for a while.”

I watched the screen dim and go dark, then set the phone aside with a soft ck. It felt heavier than it should’ve. Like it carried more than just information–like it carried guilt.

Exhaling slowly, I dragged my palm over my jaw. The air in the room was stale, still. Not a bclock /bticking, not ba /bsingle hum shadows seemed to be holding their breath.

the fridgeb, /bEven bthe /b

Outside, thunder rumbled, low and distant like a warning. The sky beyond the curtains had turned an ashen grayb, /bbthe /bedges bof /bbthe /bbworld /bbtrembling /bbwith /b

tension.

The storm wasingb, /b

But somehow… I bknew /bthat wasn’t the storm I had to fear.

00.31

Dora walked into the closet with some luggage. I turned my eyes to the hallway–the one that led deeper into the house. The walls suddenly felt too close, too quiet. The kind of quiet that came before something cracked.

Dora would try again.

That much I was sure of.

She wasn’t the kind of woman who left things unfinished. Her silence wasn’t surrender–it was nning. She was somewhere out there right now, plotting her next move, fingers cold but pretise, her smile ready to y innocent.

Maybe I should’ve been afraid.

Maybe I should’ve stopped her the first time.

But the truth was… maybe I wanted her to try again.

Maybe I wanted to look into her eyes and see the fire. Maybe I wanted her to push me to the edge–just so I could find out if I’d jump or pull her with me.

Sick, right?

I closed my eyes and let the thunder roll through me like a pulse.

And yet none of it–not the storm, not Dan’s message, not even Dora’s vengeance–shook me more than the one truth I kept buried deeper than bany /bbody Dan ever covered up.

Because even with Olivia gone…

She was still the only woman I ever truly wanted, and it’s still painful that I am just realizing that now.

Her annoying voice haunted these walls. Her perfume still clung to the pillows some nights. The ghost of her touched everything Iid my hands on.

I tried to forget.

I burned the photos. I changed the locks. I even tried to love someone else.

But the heart doesn’t work that way–not mine, at least.

And now, every time I closed my eyes, I saw her.

I heard her whispering my name–not the name others called me, but the name I’d only let her use.

The storm outside cracked louder now, lightning slicing through the gloom.

But the real storm was already here.

Inside these walls.

Inside me.

AD

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