로그인For several seconds after the call ended, nobody moved.Adrian stood completely still, his phone pressed against his hand. The fear I had seen in his eyes disappeared behind the cold expression he usually wore in public, but I had already seen it.He was afraid.Not for himself.For his mother.And for me."Who was that?" I asked.Adrian looked at me."The Circle."My father's expression tightened."They found us."Victoria crossed her arms. "They didn't just find you. They wanted you to know they found you."Adrian's eyes narrowed."What does that mean?""It means the call was a warning."I stepped closer to Adrian."They have your mother.""I know.""We have to get her back."Adrian shook his head."No."I stared at him."No?""They asked for you."My heart sank."You can't give me to them.""I won't.""Then what are you planning?"He didn't answer.I knew that expression.He was already making a decision without telling me."Adrian."He looked away."I'm going to get my mother back
My father's warning echoed through the warehouse. "Don't listen to her." I stared at my mother. She was still tied to the chair, her face pale and exhausted. Beside her stood the woman Adrian had spent years believing was simply his mother—the elegant woman who had looked at me with cold disappointment from the moment I entered the Blackwood family. But now something had changed. She wasn't looking at Adrian like a mother. She was looking at me like I was the person she had been waiting for. "Your father has been lying to you for twelve years," she repeated. I felt Adrian's hand tighten around mine. "About what?" I asked. My father's expression became desperate. "Elena, don't believe her." My mother's eyes filled with tears. "Thomas is trying to protect you." Adrian stepped forward. "Then somebody start explaining." His voice was calm, but I could hear the anger underneath it. His mother finally looked at him. "You still sound like your father." Adrian froze. "Wha
My father's name had been dead for twelve years. I had grown up believing that. I had watched my mother struggle through birthdays, holidays, and every ordinary day without him. I had learned not to ask too many questions because every question seemed to reopen a wound she was trying desperately to hide. Thomas Moore had been the man in the old photographs, the father whose face I could barely remember, and the man whose death had shaped my entire childhood. Now Adrian was standing beside me, staring at the photograph on his phone. My father was alive. And he was standing beside my mother. "Elena," Adrian said quietly. I couldn't answer. My fingers were trembling so badly that I had to clasp my hands together. The photograph had been taken inside a private hospital room. My mother was sitting on the edge of a bed, looking exhausted but conscious. And behind her stood a man I had spent twelve years believing was dead. My father. "We're going there," I finally whispered. Ad
My mother's husband was alive. The words followed me all the way down the stairs. I couldn't understand them. My father had died when I was young. My mother had spent years grieving him, raising me alone, and refusing to speak about the past. There had never been another man in our home, never a name that suggested she had married again. So how could Charles Blackwood say that her husband was still alive? "Adrian." He stopped near the entrance and turned toward me. "What?" "Your father said my mother's husband is alive." "I heard him." "Who is he?" "I don't know." I stared at him. "You don't know?" "I didn't even know your mother had another husband." Neither did I. My mind raced through every memory I had of my childhood, searching for something I might have missed. A photograph. A name. A familiar face standing beside my mother. Nothing. Adrian came closer. "Elena, look at me." I did. "Whatever happened before we met, none of it changes what I feel for you." My
I couldn't move. The man standing in the doorway was supposed to have been dead for twelve years. Charles Blackwood. Adrian's father. The man whose death had changed everything. The man whose company had collapsed. The man whose name had become a painful memory in the Blackwood family. Yet he was standing in front of me. Alive. My mother was trembling beside me. Adrian looked as though someone had taken the ground from beneath his feet. "Father?" Charles stared at him. For a long moment, neither of them moved. Then Charles slowly stepped into the room. "Adrian." Adrian shook his head. "No." His voice was barely a whisper. "No, you're dead." "I know what you were told." "You were buried." Charles's expression tightened. "A body was buried." Adrian's eyes widened. "What?" Richard stepped into the room behind Charles. "Your father couldn't allow the world to know he survived." Adrian turned toward him. "You knew?" Richard smiled faintly. "For twelve years.
The road to the old Blackwood estate seemed to stretch endlessly into the darkness. I sat beside Adrian in the back of the car, watching the city disappear behind us. The farther we traveled, the quieter everything became. Tall trees surrounded the narrow road, their branches reaching over us like dark fingers, while the headlights barely illuminated what waited ahead. Adrian hadn't said much since we left. Neither had I. His hand rested between us on the seat, close enough that our fingers occasionally brushed whenever the car moved over a bump. Neither of us mentioned it, but neither of us moved away either. I kept thinking about the message. COME ALONE, ADRIAN. My mother had supposedly sent it. But if she was being held somewhere, why would she ask Adrian to come alone? And why would whoever was behind this want me there too? "You're thinking too much." I looked at Adrian. "How do you know?" "Because you've been staring at the same tree for five minutes." I glanced t







