Chapter 2

Over the next month, Adrian was surprisingly cooperative.

All I had to do was send him one word.

[Tonight.]

Wherever he was, he'd be back before dawn.

Sometimes, he came home with someone else's perfume on him and liquor on his breath.

He never asked why I had suddenly become so willing.

Then, in the third week, he pinned me against the bedroom door and bit my earlobe.

"Elena, you've been working hard lately."

I didn't answer. I grabbed his collar, stood on tiptoe, and kissed his jaw.

That pleased him. He gave a low laugh and rested his palm against my waist. "I like you like this."

We never made it to the bed that night. It all happened against the wall.

Halfway through, his phone rang.

The first time, he ignored it and sank his teeth into my shoulder.

The second time, he frowned and swore under his breath.

The third time, he reached over and picked it up.

A name lit up the screen.

Sienna Monroe.

He answered, his other hand still gripping my waist.

"What's wrong?"

Whatever she said, his expression changed instantly.

"Stay there. I'm on my way."

Then he let go of me.

I leaned back against the headboard and watched him pick his shirt up off the floor.

"Right now?"

"Sienna got hurt at rehearsal."

I scoffed. "Can't a hospital handle a foot injury?"

His hands paused on the buttons.

"Elena, don't start with me right now."

I knew better than to keep going, so I didn't.

Other women had called him in tears in the middle of the night over every crisis imaginable.

Drunk. In a fight. Cornered by reporters. One of them even hurt herself on purpose.

Adrian usually just forwarded the call to his assistant.

Tonight, he was in such a hurry that he forgot his coat.

Ten minutes later, an Instagram message came in.

A photo. Sienna sitting on the rehearsal room floor.

Adrian down on one knee in front of her with a hand under her calf.

[He came before the doctor did.]

I looked at it for two seconds, then replied evenly.

[Then you should hold on to that.]

Another message came through almost immediately.

[You're not angry?]

I didn't answer because the test was sitting on the bathroom counter.

The second line had appeared.

The next day, a private clinic confirmed I was pregnant.

The first person I told was Margaret, Adrian's mother.

She took a few slow breaths, as if trying to contain her excitement, then said, "Come to the family office tomorrow afternoon."

When I walked into the conference room the next afternoon, the Vale lawyers and the trust manager were already there.

There was a new document on the table.

An application to activate the next-generation family trust.

Once the baby was safely delivered, I would join the Trust Advisory Committee as his legal guardian.

My authority was limited for now. But the door was finally open.

Margaret checked the time.

"Where's Adrian?"

I didn't answer. I gave her an unreadable smile. The answer was obvious.

An assistant hurried in.

"Mr. Vale has canceled today's meeting."

Adrian's father, Charles, asked, "Why?"

The assistant hesitated.

"A dancer named Sienna Monroe is making her debut at Lincoln Center tonight.

"Her dance partner was replaced at the last minute, and she's upset.

"Mr. Vale is backstage with her."

The room went quiet.

I leaned over the final page and signed my name.

Adrian knew what day it was. He knew what this child meant.

And he missed it anyway over something that didn't matter at all.

I capped the pen, rested my head on my hand, and looked out at the city through the glass.

This time, it looked like Adrian had actually fallen for one of them.