CHAPTER NINE — Family Interference

CHAPTER NINE — FAMILY INTERFERENCE

(Liana’s POV)

Morning in the penthouse tasted like gunmetal and coffee.

I woke first, the way I always did now.

Adrian was still dead to the world on his side of the bed, one arm flung out as though even unconscious he’d been reaching for me.

The sheets had slipped low on his hips, revealing the sharp cut of muscle and the white edge of the bandage.

I allowed myself exactly three seconds to look (no more) before I slid out of bed and padded barefoot to the shower.

Cold water.

Always cold.

It kept the memories from bleeding through.

By the time I emerged in black silk trousers and a cream blouse, hair still damp and twisted into a knot, the intercom was already buzzing like an angry wasp.

Security downstairs: “Mrs. Jin, there are three cars at the gate. Mrs. Eleanor Jin and… guests. They’re demanding entry.”

I smiled at the marble countertop.

Of course she came before nine a.m.

Eleanor believed in striking while the enemy was still rubbing sleep from their eyes.

“Let them up,” I said, voice honey-smooth. “And send someone with fresh coffee. The good kind.”

I found Adrian in the kitchen ten minutes later, shirtless, hair wild, staring at the espresso machine like it had personally betrayed him.

He looked up the instant I stepped into the room, relief flashing across his face so raw it almost hurt.

“You were gone,” he rasped.

“Shower,” I answered, brushing past him.

He inhaled as I passed (deep, involuntary), like he was trying to pull me straight into his lungs.

The elevator chimed.

Eleanor swept in first, flanked by Adrian’s uncle Richard, his cousin Stephen, and two lawyers I recognised from the original timeline (men who had once helped dismantle my life piece by piece).

They all stopped short when they saw Adrian standing behind me, one possessive hand already settling on my waist.

Eleanor recovered first.

“Adrian, darling. You’re coming home with us. The family estate has medical staff on site, your own bed—”

“No.”

The single word cracked through the room like a gunshot.

Eleanor’s eyes narrowed.

“Adrian, be reasonable—”

He stepped forward, putting himself half in front of me.

“I said no.”

Richard cleared his throat. “Son, you’re not well. The doctors—”

“I’m exactly where I need to be.”

His fingers tightened on my hip.

“Where she is.”

I let the silence stretch just long enough to be uncomfortable, then smiled (small, polite, lethal).

“Good morning, Eleanor. Coffee?”

She ignored me.

“Adrian, this woman is taking advantage—”

Adrian moved so fast the lawyers flinched.

He was across the room in two strides, looming over his mother, voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.

“Speak about her like that again,” he said, “and you will never set foot in this apartment while I’m alive.”

Eleanor went very still.

I had never seen her afraid before.

It was beautiful.

I sipped my coffee and watched the show.

Stephen tried next (always the peacemaker, always the snake).

“Cousin, we’re only worried. You don’t remember… certain things. She might not have your best interests—”

Adrian turned.

The look he gave Stephen could have frozen fire.

“I don’t remember,” he said slowly, “but I feel.

And every cell in my body knows I belong with her.

If any of you try to take me away from Liana, I will burn every bridge this family owns to keep her.”

The lawyers exchanged uneasy glances.

Richard opened his mouth, closed it again.

I set my cup down with a soft clink.

“Gentlemen,” I said pleasantly, “your concern is noted.

The discharge papers were signed. The hospital released him into my care.

Legally, medically, and (apparently) biologically, Adrian is mine right now.

Unless any of you would like to explain to the press why the Jin family is trying to forcibly remove a brain-injured man from his wife’s home, I suggest you leave.”

Eleanor’s face was marble.

“This isn’t over.”

I smiled wider.

“I certainly hope not. I’ve only just started.”

Adrian’s hand found mine again (tight, desperate, proud).

He didn’t look at his family once as they filed back into the elevator.

The doors closed.

The silence that followed tasted like victory and something darker.

Adrian turned to me, eyes blazing.

“You fought for me,” he said, voice rough with wonder.

I met his gaze coolly.

“Don’t get used to it.”

But my pulse was racing, and when he stepped closer (slow, reverent), pressing his forehead to mine, I let him.

For now.