When the Past Knocks

Chapter 17: When the Past Knocks

The knock came just after sunset.

Not the polite kind. Not tentative. It was firm, deliberate—like whoever stood on the other side already knew they belonged here.

I froze in the living room, the sound echoing through the penthouse. Adrian wasn’t home yet. He’d said he would be late.

The knock came again.

Against my better judgment, I walked to the door and opened it.

Claire Laurent stood there.

Up close, she was even more striking—composed, confident, her expression carefully neutral. But her eyes sharpened the moment she saw me.

“You must be Amara,” she said smoothly.

“Yes.”

“I was hoping we could talk.”

Every instinct told me to close the door. Instead, I stepped aside.

She took in the penthouse with a knowing glance before turning back to me. “I won’t take much of your time.”

We sat across from each other, tension threading the air.

“You and Adrian are… unexpected,” she said lightly.

“So I’ve been told.”

She smiled. “He’s not the type to marry without reason.”

I met her gaze. “Neither am I.”

Something flickered in her eyes—approval, maybe. Or curiosity.

“I knew Adrian before the walls,” she said. “Before everything became about control.”

My chest tightened. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you deserve honesty,” she replied. “And because he won’t give it.”

Before I could respond, the door opened behind us.

Adrian stopped short when he saw her.

“Claire,” he said sharply. “What are you doing here?”

She stood. “I came to see you. You weren’t answering my calls.”

“This isn’t appropriate.”

“Neither is pretending your past doesn’t exist.”

The tension between them was unmistakable—old, unresolved, heavy.

“I’ll give you privacy,” I said quietly, standing.

Adrian turned to me. “No. Stay.”

The word surprised both of us.

Claire’s gaze shifted between us, something unreadable settling in her expression.

“Good,” she said. “Then we won’t pretend.”

Adrian’s jaw tightened. “What do you want, Claire?”

She exhaled slowly. “The board is pushing. They want stability—real stability. This marriage raises questions.”

“And you’re here to do what?” I asked. “Investigate?”

She met my gaze evenly. “Warn you.”

“About what?”

“About loving a man who doesn’t know how to choose it.”

Adrian stepped forward. “That’s enough.”

“Is it?” she countered. “You taught me control too, Adrian. You taught me how to build walls so high no one could climb them. And then you left.”

Silence fell.

“I didn’t leave,” he said. “I survived.”

“And I didn’t,” she replied quietly.

The words landed heavily.

“I won’t apologize for choosing differently,” he continued. “For choosing a life that didn’t cost me everything.”

Her eyes flicked to me. “And has it?”

Adrian didn’t answer.

Claire picked up her bag. “Be careful, Amara,” she said softly. “He doesn’t mean to hurt people. He just doesn’t know how not to.”

When she left, the penthouse felt unbearably quiet.

I turned to Adrian. “Is that true?”

He didn’t look at me. “Some of it.”

“Which part?”

“That I don’t know how to choose,” he said. “Or that people get hurt.”

My heart ached. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want you to see me like that,” he admitted. “Unfinished. Failing.”

I stepped closer. “You don’t get to decide what I can handle.”

His eyes finally met mine—raw, conflicted.

“She loved me,” he said. “I couldn’t give her what she needed.”

“And what about me?” I asked quietly.

The question hung between us, fragile and terrifying.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “And that scares me.”

I nodded, swallowing the ache in my throat. “Then don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I haven’t,” he said.

“No,” I agreed. “You’ve just made space. And sometimes that hurts just as much.”

I walked away before he could stop me.

That night, lying alone in bed, I understood something with painful clarity.

The past doesn’t knock to be polite.

It knocks to be answered.

And until Adrian faced it, neither of us could move forward—no matter how close we stood to crossing the line.