Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Changes

ADRIA

I woke up alone, which was a mercy. The sheets beside me were cold, and I could hear the shower running in the bathroom—Damien's domain during his elaborate morning routine that took exactly forty-seven minutes from start to finish. I'd timed it once during the early days of our marriage, back when I'd foolishly thought knowing his patterns would help me be a better wife.

The burns on my chest and stomach throbbed with every breath, a constant reminder of last night's humiliation. I touched them gently through my pajama top, feeling the heat radiating from the blistered skin.

Good. Let them hurt. Let them remind me exactly what kind of man I'd married, what kind of fool I'd been.

I heard the shower turn off and quickly closed my eyes, evening out my breathing to feign sleep. Through my lashes, I watched Damien emerge from the bathroom, already dressed in one of his custom-tailored suits. He stood by the bed for a moment, just looking at me, and I had to force myself to remain still under his gaze.

What was he thinking? Was he feeling guilty? Satisfied? Or was he simply cataloging his property, making sure everything was in its place?

He left without waking me, his footsteps fading down the stairs, followed by the sound of the garage door opening and closing. Only then did I allow myself to move, sitting up carefully to avoid aggravating the burns.

My phone—my real phone, the one with my actual life on it—was hidden in my car where I'd left it last night. But Damien's tracking app was installed on the phone he'd given me, the one I was supposed to carry at all times so he could monitor my location. I grabbed it from the nightstand and saw three missed calls from him, all from last night before he'd come home.

Interesting. He'd actually been worried enough to call multiple times.

I set the phone aside and went to the bathroom, stripping off my pajamas to assess the damage in the mirror. The burns looked worse in the harsh morning light—angry red patches interspersed with fluid-filled blisters. They'd scar, probably. A permanent reminder of my own stupidity.

I applied more ointment, gritting my teeth against the sting, then dressed in one of the bland outfits Damien preferred—a shapeless beige dress that washed out my complexion and made me look like I was auditioning for the role of "forgettable woman number three."

Perfect.

I needed to go to the office today. Not Damien's office—God, no. My own office, the one that existed in a building I owned under a shell corporation, where my actual assistant worked and my actual business partners waited for me to stop playing house with a man who'd never deserved a single second of my time.

But first, I needed to maintain appearances.

I went downstairs and prepared breakfast—eggs, toast, coffee, fresh fruit, all arranged on a tray because Damien had mentioned once that his mother used to serve his father breakfast in bed. I'd been doing it ever since, even though he rarely ate more than a bite or two before leaving for work.

The tray sat on the kitchen counter, growing cold, a monument to wasted effort.

My phone buzzed. The burner phone, not my real one. A text from Damien.

**Damien: Make sure you rest today. Your burns need time to heal.**

I stared at the message, trying to decode what he actually wanted. Was this genuine concern? Guilt manifesting as care? Or was he just making sure his property was maintained in working order?

I typed out a response that the old Adriana would have sent.

**Me: Thank you for caring. I'll rest. I hope you have a good day at work.**

Obedient. Grateful. Pathetic.

I hit send and immediately wanted to throw the phone across the room.

Instead, I cleared away the untouched breakfast, loaded the dishwasher, and did all the other mindless tasks that had filled my days for eighteen months. Damien's dry cleaning needed to be picked up. The housekeeper would be coming tomorrow, so I needed to prepare a list of tasks. The gardener had questions about the rose bushes that I was supposed to answer.

A life built entirely around serving someone else's needs.

My real phone rang from inside my purse where I'd hidden it after coming home last night. I pulled it out and saw Adrian's name on the screen.

"Morning," I answered, keeping my voice low even though I was alone in the house.

"Did you sleep at all?" My twin brother's voice was rough with concern.

"Some."

"Liar. I can always tell when you're lying, Adria. Your voice goes up half an octave."

Damn it. He was right. "Fine. I didn't sleep much. Happy?"

"Not particularly. What's the plan?"

I walked to the window, looking out at the perfectly manicured lawn that I'd never chosen, never wanted, never cared about. "I need to figure out which of Damien's friends owns that necklace. The real one. Once I know who it is, I can find the boy who saved me, and then..."

"And then you burn his world down."

"Exactly."

Adrian was quiet for a moment. "Mom and Dad want to see you."

My chest tightened. "I know."

"Sophia is planning something elaborate. You know how she gets. Elijah has apparently built some kind of welcome home presentation with fireworks. And Marcus—"

"I can't," I interrupted. "Not yet. If I see them now, I'll fall apart. I need to finish this first."

"They'll understand. But Adria?" His voice softened. "Don't take too long. We've missed eighteen months of your life. We don't want to miss any more."

Guilt twisted in my stomach. My family had been frantic, and I'd been too obsessed with a ghost to care. "I'll make it right. I promise."

"I know you will. You always do." He paused. "The news about you coming back is everywhere, by the way. Every business contact I have has been calling asking for an introduction to the mysterious Salvadore heiress."

I laughed bitterly. "Let me guess—Damien's company too?"

"His name came up on a list of interested parties, yes. Apparently, he's very eager to meet you."