Eight Years For Loving You.

Elena Hart's hands trembled as she slipped out of the back door of her stepfamily’s house. She was breathing like someone who had a panic attack. At nineteen, she was already used to hiding from her stepmother, Lydia who always badmouthed her. She dodged her stepsister, Vanessa's glare. She knew Vanessa never liked her anyway. But fate wasn't on her side tonight as she was sneaking out.

Though tonight wasn't about sneaking out or dodging her stepmom and Vanessa. It was about him. Adrian Cole. The only man who made her feel like she's worth it, like she's the same as every other random person out there. He saw her when every other person looked through her and assumed she was okay even when she wasn't.

Adrian was the only person who understood her. That was why she never missed out on their little moments. She would go through any risk to be with him.

She held her sketch-book, it is her one constant in the house that felt like a battlefield. While growing up, Elena had learnt how to stay small, to let Lydia criticise her and for Vanessa to taunt her always, without putting up a fight.

Art was her rebellion, her way of screaming without making a sound. She loved art because it made her feel alive, alongside her best friend Claire. 

Claire had always been her anchor since they were kids, she was like the sister she never had. Although she did have a sister, but she was more like an enemy to her than a family member.

But recently, she had suspected that Claire was acting oddly; she had become distant and even forced smiles, as if she was carrying something heavy or was probably hiding something.

Maybe she was dealing with something personal Elena thought.

Elena pushed the thought aside as she hurried down the street. Her sneakers thudded along the pavement, uneven and hurried.

Adrian's text still at the back of her mind, “meet me at 5th on the 57th floor.” Her chest was beating so fast that she swore the world could hear it, half from fear of being caught and half from the thought of seeing him.

Adrian was twenty seven. A billionaire who owned half of the city. To outsiders, he was a wall of ice, untouchable and unreadable, the kind of man whose presence made chills seep into one's bones.

To her, he was the guy who found her sketching in the park. Who sat beside her and asked her about drawings. There was a softness in his tone, low and steady, the kind of sound that made her wonder if the cruelty was just an act as he spoke to her.

For months now, they had met on borrowed times, exchanged a few kisses and whispered confessions to each other, when the world was too tired to listen.

“You are different Elena”, he murmured once to her. His grey eyes softened in a way that twisted something deep in her chest.

 “You make me want things I shouldn't”. 

She had laughed it off then.

It was reckless, maybe ruinous because he was older and untouchably powerful. A man whose world would swallow hers whole. His mother Margret would rather burn the whole earth than let them stay together.

And when his gaze caught hers, steady and unflinching, everything else fell away. The fears, the rules and the gulf between them. There was only him.

He was waiting when she reached the corner where they were to meet. He was leaning against his car, tall and sharp in a tailored suit. His face was mean and cold but when he saw her his eyes lit up. “You came,” he said, pulling her close to himself. 

His hands were warm and steady and she sank into him, her cheek against his chest. “You thought I wouldn't come?” She mumbled, her voice muffled by his shirt.

He lifted her chin up, his thumb brushing her lip. “ I think you are braver than you know”. Then he kissed her, slowly and gently, and for a moment the world was just theirs. When he pulled back, he pressed a small box into her hands. “For you, wear it tonight”.

Inside the box was a necklace, a silver paintbrush pendant, the tiny diamonds catching the streetlight. Her throat felt dry, “Adrian this is too much”.

“Nothing is too much for you”. He wore it around her neck, his fingers lingering. “Come to the gala just for a bit, I need you there”.

The gala, his birthday, a glittering circus of the New York elite at the Plaza. Lydia and Vanessa would be there, trying to gain attention, and Elena had no place among them. But Adrian's eyes were pleading and she couldn't say no. “I'll stay out of sight”, she promised.

He nodded but his expression cracked, was he worried? Or maybe something darker. “ Stay close to me”.

Hours later, Elena stood on the edge of the ballroom, wearing a plain black dress in the midst of people wearing designer gowns. The necklace felt heavy, a secret tying her to Adrian. She spotted him across the room, commanding attention as he raised a glass for a toast.

“To another year”, he said, his voice steady. Then his eyes met hers, a silent promise passing between them.

Vanessa was there too in a red dress that screams attention, her arm looped around a rich guy's. She caught Elena's eyes and smirked. That evil smirk.

She whispered something to the guy she was with that made him laugh. Elena's stomach grumbled. She was having this odd feeling that something may go wrong.

Vanessa has always hated her, but lately, the hate felt sharper and intense.

Claire stood nearby, clutching her purse, her face pale. “You are here” she said to Elena, her voice shaky. “I didn't think you would come.

“Adrian asked me to,” Elena said, frowning. “You okay, Claire?” 

Claire's eye wouldn't reach hers. “Yeah. Just…..be careful, okay?”

Before Elena could ask what she meant, a waiter offered her champagne. She took it, sipping it to calm her nerves. Her gaze drifted back to Adrian.

He was laughing now, his laugh was rare as he talked to Richard Hale, his right hand man, whose smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

The night went on, Adrian brushed past her once his hands held hers whispering “Terrace, midnight”. Her heart beat fast. But as the clock ticked closer everything changed.

Adrian raised his glass for a final toast, his eyes locking on hers across the crowd. He drank his champagne and then his face twisted. And suddenly his glass of champagne fell, shattering on the tiled floor. He clutched his throat, choking and then he collapsed.

“Adrian!” Elena's scream cut through the noise. She shoved through the crowd dropping beside him. His skin was cold with beads of sweat on his forehead and his eyes wide with pain.

“Somebody help him!” She shouted.

The air fractured with noise—shouts colliding, footsteps pounding, panic spilling across every corner. Security guards stormed in. Margaret knelt beside Adrian, her face masked with fury.

“Who did this?” she demanded.

Vanessa stepped forward with tears streaming down her face, too perfect, too practiced that made everyone believe her.

“I saw Elena near the drinks," she said, her voice trembling but sharp. Elena froze. “Huh? What! No I didn't…..”

A hand grabbed her purse. Detective Jonah Reeve, badge gleaming, dumped it out. A glass vial hit the floor and everyone in the room gasped.

“I didn't do it!” Elena's voice cracked, desperate for someone to believe her. She looked at Claire, pleading with her. “Tell them Claire, you know me”

Tears spilled down Claire's crumpled face. “I…. I saw her tamper with the drink”, she 

whispered barely audible. 

The words hit like a punch to Elena's gut. “Claire?” Elena's voice broke. She turned to Adrian, his eyes meeting hers. His eyes held pain and something worse….. Betrayal.

“Adrian please it wasn't me”. He didn't speak. He didn't move, just silence. And his silence was a wall shutting her out.

Guards grabbed her, their grip too tight bruising her. “No,” she screamed, twisting against them. The chain snapped around her wrists, cold and heavy. “Adrian, I didn't do it! Please!”

He turned his head away and that alone hurt more than the cuffs, more than Vanessa's smug tears, more than Claire's shaking sobs. The crowd parted as they dragged her out, with her screams resounding and her heart breaking with every step she took.

She was innocent but no one cared, not even him.