Chapter 17

Serena pov

I knocked on Adrian's office door, waited for his permission, then stepped inside. "Adrian," I said coolly, all business. "In a little while I'm heading to the hospital to visit someone," he said. "Go to the Hall house and pick up the century-old mountain ginseng and the other supplements the client sent. I've already told Martha—just go straight there." "Got it." It was work, after all. That ginseng was rare and priceless, yet he was giving it away without hesitation. Whoever was receiving it mattered a great deal to him. I didn't ask. My mind was on the resignation letter I'd submitted a week ago. Still no response. I wanted to bring it up, gauge his reaction, decide my next step. But before I could speak, his private phone rang. It sat on the desk. The screen flashed: Elena. I felt my brow tighten. He answered instantly and put it on speaker, not bothering to hide anything from me. Of course not. She was the light he'd carried in secret for years; now that he finally had her, why hide it? I'd spent a decade in the dark. "Adrian, I just woke up and saw your message." Her voice was thick with sleep, husky and sweet, like silk catching morning sun—lazy, clinging at the edges. Enough to hook any wolf. I was a she-wolf myself; I recognized the calculated softness. He clearly liked it. "I thought you might still be resting," he said gently. "You can always call me." "It wasn't urgent. I just wanted to tell you I'll stop by to see your mother later." So that was it. The lavish gift made sense now—he was visiting Elena's mother. Had to impress the future in-laws, after all. Elena's delight was obvious. "Really? What time?" "Around noon." "Perfect. We can have lunch—my treat for all your help. Mom keeps saying I need to thank you properly." "Sounds good." He set his pen down, giving her his full attention. I slipped out quietly so I wouldn't disturb their sweet conversation. The scent of new love leaked through the closed door anyway. I left Blackwood business early and headed to the Hall house to collect the ginseng. Adrian didn't live there full-time—only returned for holidays to share a meal with his father, Harold Hall. Most days it was just Harold and Martha, his caretaker. Quiet, almost empty. It had been over two weeks since I'd last come. I took a small detour to Lotus Leaf Café and bought Harold's favorite fresh Lotus Blossom Pastries. When I arrived, he was in the garden feeding the koi. The gate stood half-open, as always—an unspoken invitation. Whenever he knew I was coming, he had Martha leave it that way. She'd told me in confidence, of course. Harold Hall was stern, rarely smiled, rarely spoke unnecessarily. His relationship with Adrian had long been strained. I'd met Adrian at the worst of it—when Harold wanted him to inherit the family empire and Adrian refused, determined to build his own. Martha said their fight that night had wrecked the study, priceless antiques shattered. Adrian stormed out. Harold publicly swore no one would aid Blackwood business out of loyalty to the Hall name. For the first two years, the pack office nearly collapsed. Even as sole heir, Adrian received nothing. Only in recent years—thanks to my quiet mediation—had the ice begun to thaw. Harold hadn't liked me at first either. Cold words, colder stares. That was when I understood exactly where Adrian's sharp tongue and distance came from. It never stopped me. The colder the reception, the harder I tried. Eventually my persistence wore him down. Martha always said I was the reason father and son were speaking again. Without me bridging the gap, the silence might have lasted forever. "Harold," I called brightly, pushing through the gate with a warm smile, "feeding the fish?" His face stayed stern, but he gave a low hum of acknowledgment. I set the pastries on the table beside him. "Still warm from the oven. Eat them now or they'll lose their crisp." He set the fish food aside, wiped his hands, and took two pieces. When he reached for a third, I gently moved the box away. He glared. I smiled. "Blood sugar, remember? Save the rest for tomorrow. I'll have Martha put them away." He huffed, then asked slowly, "How is he?" Meaning Adrian. "He's fine," I said lightly. Thriving, actually—love and success all at once. "And you?" The question caught me off guard. Harold rarely showed concern. "I'm good too." "You're twenty-eight now, aren't you?" He tossed more food to the plump, spoiled koi. I wondered where this was going. Before I could guess, he continued, "Old enough. Time to step into the next phase of life." The words pulled at something raw inside me. This year, I'd planned to take that step with Adrian. I'd even chosen the ring. So close. Just a breath away. And that tiny distance had ruined everything. I'd always been just short of the luck I needed in love. I didn't know how to answer. I'd already decided to walk away. Three hearts couldn't share one bond. I would stand alone. Harold mistook my silence for shyness and offered, "Soon I'll arrange a dinner—Adrian, you, and your mother. We can discuss the two of you forming a sacred bond."