Chapter 14: Secrets Behind Closed Doors

The next morning, Elena woke to an unfamiliar quiet. No brisk footsteps in the corridor, no low murmur of Adrian’s voice barking orders over an early call. The mansion felt oddly still, and for a man as obsessive with routine as Adrian Blackwell, that silence was wrong.

A strange weight pressed on her chest as she slipped from her room and padded barefoot down the hall. The door to his suite was ajar, a sliver of light cutting across the polished floor. She pushed it open.

Her breath caught.

Adrian lay in bed, sheets rumpled, his usually sharp features dulled. He looked pale, exhausted, almost fragile — words she never thought could belong to him.

“Adrian?” she whispered, stepping inside.

His eyes cracked open, gray and clouded. “Elena,” he rasped, voice hoarse. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“That’s my line.” She crossed to the bed, ignoring his glare. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.” He tried to sit up, but the motion drew a faint wince, quickly masked.

Before she could demand answers, Marcus appeared in the doorway. “Sir, the doctor has arrived.”

Elena whipped toward him. “Doctor?” Her heart lurched. “Why wasn’t I told?”

Adrian’s voice was firm, clipped. “Because it’s unnecessary.”

Unnecessary? She was his wife, wasn’t she? Yet he acted like she was some stranger intruding. Her retort burned on her tongue, but it was swallowed when a tall figure entered behind Marcus.

The doctor.

Elena blinked, caught off guard. This wasn’t the gray-haired family physician she’d pictured. The man before her was in his early thirties, with dark hair, sharp cheekbones, and an easy confidence in the way he carried himself. His suit jacket was discarded for a rolled-sleeve shirt, and a stethoscope hung casually around his neck.

“Adrian,” the man said with a low, familiar drawl. “You look worse than the last time I saw you.”

Adrian gave him a faint smirk — one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “And here I thought doctors were supposed to reassure their patients.”

The familiarity between them made Elena’s brows knit.

“Dr. James Carter,” Marcus introduced, though Adrian cut him off.

“James is fine,” Adrian said.

Elena folded her arms. “So you call each other by first names, hm? That must mean you’re close.”

James glanced at her, a flicker of surprise in his blue eyes, before his lips curved into a polite smile. “And you must be Elena.”

Something about the way he said her name — smooth, professional, but tinged with curiosity — made Adrian’s gaze harden almost imperceptibly.

“She’s my wife,” Adrian said flatly, as if staking a claim.

“I gathered.” James’s eyes twinkled with faint amusement, but he quickly turned to business. He set his bag down and began unpacking his instruments. “Let’s take a look.”

Elena hovered by the bedside, arms crossed, unwilling to leave. Adrian shot her a look. “I’d prefer privacy.”

She lifted her chin. “And I’d prefer answers.”

James chuckled under his breath. “She’s got spirit. I like her.”

Adrian’s glare could have frozen stone. “Focus, James.”

The doctor only smirked faintly and went about his exam — checking Adrian’s pulse, blood pressure, reflexes. He moved with brisk efficiency, but Elena didn’t miss the way his expression shifted when he listened to Adrian’s heartbeat, the flicker of concern quickly masked.

“What is it?” she demanded, stepping closer.

James hesitated, glancing at Adrian. His patient’s eyes sharpened like a warning.

“Nothing serious,” James said smoothly. “Just fatigue. Overwork.”

Elena’s frown deepened. “That’s it?”

Adrian’s voice cut in, sharp as steel. “That’s it.”

She narrowed her eyes at the exchange. Something unsaid passed between them, and she hated being left out of it.

When James finished scribbling notes, Adrian’s tone dropped low. “This stays between us. As always.”

The words hit Elena like a slap. As always? So this wasn’t new. He’d been hiding something — and hiding it with James’s help.

Her blood simmered. “Excuse me?”

Adrian didn’t even look at her. “Doctor–patient confidentiality.”

“You mean secret from your wife,” she snapped.

James shifted uncomfortably, clearly caught between them. “Adrian—”

“Not a word,” Adrian said, his voice brooking no argument.

Elena’s jaw clenched so hard it ached. He trusted his friend more than her? He would confide in James but shut her out completely?

James cleared his throat, packing up his bag. “I’ll send a prescription adjustment. And Adrian…” His tone softened just slightly. “You can’t keep burning the candle at both ends.”

Adrian’s eyes flickered, but he gave no reply.

When James left, Elena rounded on her husband. “You’d rather confide in your friend than your wife? Do you hear how insulting that is?”

Adrian pinched the bridge of his nose. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then make me understand!” she demanded, voice rising. “God, Adrian, do you think I’m so shallow that I can’t handle reality?”

His gaze snapped to hers, sharp, tired, and haunted. “Reality is exactly what I’m protecting you from.”

The words silenced her for a beat, the weight behind them unsettling.

Elena took a slow breath, steadying herself. “If you keep building walls between us, one day you’ll look up and realize I’m on the other side — too far to reach.”

She turned on her heel, fury and hurt tangling in her chest, and stormed from the room.

>>>>>

The rest of the day dragged. Elena tried to lose herself in sketches, but the lines blurred under her pen. James’s knowing look haunted her — the way he’d clearly been aware of more than he said. And Adrian… Adrian had looked almost defeated when he said those words.

By evening, she found herself pacing. Sleep felt impossible. Finally, with a frustrated sigh, she slipped back down the hall and pushed open his door.

The lamp was on. Adrian sat propped against the headboard, files in his lap despite everything. He looked up, gray eyes catching hers.

“You should be resting,” she said, stepping inside.

He arched a brow. “You should be minding your own business.”

She stalked over and plucked the file from his hands. “Impossible man. Even half-dead, you’re still working?”

His lips twitched faintly, though he said nothing. For a fleeting second, the mask cracked — and beneath it, she saw exhaustion, shadows carved deep under his eyes.

“Elena,” he said quietly, “don’t push this.”

Her heart thudded. “And if I do?”

His gaze held hers, heavy with something unspoken. “Then one of us will break.”

The silence stretched, thick and charged. Elena reached down, tugged the blanket higher over him, her hand brushing his. He didn’t move, didn’t pull away.

“Rest,” she said softly. “For once in your life, just… rest.”

Adrian closed his eyes, his breathing evening out, though his brow remained furrowed even in half-sleep.

Elena sank into the chair beside his bed, arms crossed, eyes fixed on him. He could shut her out all he wanted, but she wasn’t leaving. Not tonight.