19

Elena

I sat by my bedroom window long past midnight, watching the driveway for headlights that never came. Adrian didn’t return that night.

By the time exhaustion finally dragged me into a shallow, restless sleep, the sky had begun turning gray. I woke a few hours later to the smell of toasted bread and fresh tea drifting up through my door.

I dressed slowly and made my way downstairs. Eleanor was waiting at the bottom of the staircase, an apron tied neatly around her waist, a warm smile plastered across her face as if the night before had never happened.

“There you are, sweet girl,” she cooed, taking my hands in hers. “I made you breakfast. Come, sit.”

She guided me to the table, where a full spread waited—eggs, fresh bread, fruit, a steaming cup of tea.

She pulled out my chair herself, fussing over the placement of my napkin like a woman auditioning for the role of a doting mother.

“Mother,” I said carefully, sitting down. “Is everything alright?”

“I owe you an apology,” she said, lowering herself into the seat across from me, her expression arranged into something resembling remorse. “I said terrible things to you last night. I was out of my mind with worry over Lucas. You didn’t deserve that, not after everything you’ve done for this family.”

“It’s alright, Mother,” I murmured, keeping my voice soft. “I understand. We’re all under so much strain right now.”

“Eat, eat,” she urged, sliding the plate closer to me. “You barely touched anything yesterday. You need your strength.”

I looked down at the food, my pulse quickening.

Adrian hadn’t come last night. That meant he was coming today—and Eleanor, suddenly warm, suddenly generous, suddenly desperate to feed me a home-cooked meal I hadn’t asked for, wasn’t behaving like a woman still furious with her daughter-in-law.

She was behaving like a woman clearing the board.

“This looks wonderful,” I said, picking up my fork with a trembling, grateful smile. “Thank you, Mother.”

I ate slowly, making a show of savoring every bite. After a few minutes, I set the fork down and pressed a hand to my stomach.

“Are you alright, dear?” Eleanor asked, leaning forward with concern.

“I’m not feeling very well,” I said, my voice wavering just enough. “My stomach... I think I need to lie back down.”

“Of course, of course,” she said quickly, rising to help me from my chair. “Go rest. I’ll check on you in a while.”

I made it up the stairs and into my bathroom just in time. I locked the door, dropped to my knees, and forced every bite back up until my throat burned and my eyes watered. Whatever she had put in that food wasn’t going to touch me.

After rinsing my mouth and splashing cold water on my face, I unlocked the door and walked calmly back to my bed as if nothing at all had happened. I pulled out my phone and typed quickly.

He didn’t come home last night. That means he’s coming today. Get ready. I’ll message you the second he’s here.

Roxy’s reply came instantly: Standing by. Say the word.

I slid the phone beneath my pillow, lay back against the sheets, closed my eyes, and let my breathing fall into the slow, even rhythm of sleep.

I didn’t have to wait long.

My bedroom door eased open with a soft click. Careful, measured footsteps crossed the floor toward my bed.

“Elena,” Eleanor whispered, close enough that I felt her breath against my cheek. “Can you hear me?”

I didn’t move. I didn’t so much as let my eyelids flutter.

“She’s out,” Eleanor said, her voice pitched low, speaking to someone else in the room now. “I told you the sleeping drug I put in the food would knock her out until evening. We have nothing to worry about.”

“Good,” John’s voice answered, quiet and satisfied. “Tell Adrian the road is clear.”

Their footsteps retreated, the door easing shut behind them with a soft, careful click.

I lay perfectly still, counting the seconds, forcing my pulse to slow even as triumph surged hot through my veins. Ten minutes. Fifteen. I gave it a full twenty before I finally opened my eyes and rose from the bed without a sound.

I picked up my phone.

He’s here. Go now. Bring Kane.

I slipped the phone into my pocket, crept to my door, and eased it open just wide enough to slip through.

I moved down the hallway on silent feet, pressing myself into the shadowed alcove near the top of the stairs and looking down into the foyer.

Adrian stood near the stoop in dark clothes, a cap pulled low. Beside him was Vivian, resting a hand over her rounded stomach. Seeing her baby bump hit like a cold wave—he hadn’t just cheated; he had built an entirely separate family while forcing fertility-blocking drugs down my throat.

“This had better be important,” Adrian snapped at his mother, his voice low but sharp with irritation. “Do you have any idea what I gave up to come back here? Vivian and I were finally settling in, finally starting to feel safe, and you drag me back into this circus.”

“Adrian,” Eleanor started. “About Lucas, I want you to get him out of there. Your brother can’t be jailed. I—”

“Why couldn’t you keep Lucas in line?” he cut her off, pacing angrily. “One brother, one simple job—stay quiet, don’t draw attention—and he’s managed to get himself arrested for something that’s going to plaster our family name across every headline in the city.”

“You think I wanted this?” Eleanor snapped back, her composure cracking. “I’ve been holding this family together with my bare hands while you’ve been off playing house with your mistress!”

“Careful, Mother,” Adrian warned, his eyes darkening.

Eleanor’s face went pale, her earlier fury draining into something colder and more calculating.

“If you don’t find a way to save your brother,” she said, her voice dropping into a low, venomous hiss, “I will make sure every reporter in this city knows exactly what you’ve done, Adrian. Every last detail. I don’t care if it drags this whole family down with you.”

Vivian shrank back, clutching Adrian’s arm.

I stayed frozen where I was, watching the family I’d once loved threaten to devour each other alive, and felt nothing but cold, patient satisfaction.

I slipped my phone from my pocket, thumb hovering over Roxy’s name, and typed one final word.

Now.