Chapter 5

Adrian quickly collected himself and caught up to me.

"Elena, stop punishing yourself like this."

His voice was so gentle it almost cracked, the same tender act he had always performed so well.

"You can hate me or take revenge on me, whatever you want. But don't throw yourself at Leon just to make me jealous. Come home with me. We can start over."

He hadn't even asked what I'd been through these past three years.

He simply assumed that every change in me still revolved around him.

I gave a soft laugh and tightened my hold on Leon's arm.

"Mr. Grant, if your mental health is suffering, see a doctor. Mistaking a stranger for your dead wife isn't romantic."

Leon stepped in front of me.

"Adrian, stop creeping out my fiancee.

"Now she'll have to wash her hands again when we get home because you touched her."

Suppressed laughter rippled through the crowd.

Adrian's jaw clenched, but he didn't argue. He had his seat moved so he was directly across from me, ate nothing all evening, and watched my every move.

The main course was a seafood bisque with crab puff pastry.

The moment the waiter set down the plate, Adrian slammed his hand on the rim and shoved it aside.

"She's severely allergic to shellfish."

He told the waiter, "Replace it with warm milk and a nut-free dessert."

In that moment, he looked exactly like the husband who once knew all my habits, who used to check restaurant menus in advance.

But this belated attentiveness only struck me as ironic.

He wasn't taking care of me.

He was testing me.

I pulled the plate back, cut off a small piece of crab with my fork, and ate it right in front of him.

Under the table, Leon's hand found mine and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Over these three years, the allergy specialists in Geneva had put me through a long-term desensitization program. Before attending the gala, I had taken medication under my doctor's guidance and carried an EpiPen in my clutch.

I wasn't gambling my life to prove who I was. I was simply dismantling the last way Adrian thought he still knew me.

Five minutes passed.

My breathing was steady. No rash appeared.

Adrian gripped the edge of the table and stood, his eyes locked on the side of my neck.

He was terrified that I would stop breathing at any second, and equally terrified that I wouldn't react at all.

In the end, the stubborn light in his eyes died out, and he collapsed back into his chair.

After the gala ended, I went to the far end of the corridor alone to retrieve my coat.

As I rounded a corner beyond the security cameras, a hand reached out from the shadows and pressed me against the wall.

Adrian pinned my shoulders, his eyes so red he looked like he hadn't slept in days.

"I don't care what you call yourself now."

His tears fell without warning.

"You're Elena."

I turned my face away, dodging the hand reaching for my cheek.

"I was an asshole for what I did about the liver donation." He grabbed my hand, trying to press it to his chest. "But I couldn't watch Celia die. Daniel saved my life. I promised I'd look after her. I was just trying to save someone."

"The doctors told me the risks of living donation were manageable. I never imagined it would end up like that."

He sobbed without a shred of dignity, his voice reduced to a whisper.

"You're the one I've always loved. Come home with me, please?"

He was still wrapping his cruelest decision in the most respectable moral reasoning.

I looked at him in silence.

There was a time when a single frown from that face would have made me instantly wonder if I was the one who was wrong.

Now, his devotion just made me sick.

"How noble of you, Mr. Grant."

I pulled my hand free and straightened up.

"Since you're the one who can't stand by and let someone die. Since you're so willing to take all the responsibility—"

I looked him dead in the eye and asked, enunciating every word,

"Then why didn't you cut out part of your own liver?"