Cold Rooms, Warmer Room

The room was cold—too cold for late spring. I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders, lying still in the oversized bed, staring at the ceiling.

I hadn’t slept much. Every time I closed my eyes, Adrian’s voice echoed in my head.

“You should’ve stayed gone.”

It wasn’t just his words that stung. It was how easily he said them. Like I never mattered. Like we hadn’t once planned a future together.

But I knew better than to expect softness from Adrian Knight.

The man I used to love was still buried inside him—somewhere—but the version I had just faced last night? That man was cold, distant, and unreadable.

I sat up and rubbed my hands together. The silence in the room was too loud. I needed something—anything—to break it.

Downstairs, I could already hear faint footsteps. Probably Elena. She was always up before the sun, making tea, fluffing pillows that didn’t need fluffing. She was the heartbeat of this mansion. The only warmth it had left.

I changed into a plain grey sweater and jeans, brushed my hair, and forced myself down the staircase. My legs felt heavy with every step, like the walls were watching me, judging me for coming back.

I found Elena in the kitchen, humming softly while stirring something on the stove.

She turned when she saw me, a soft smile forming. “Couldn’t sleep?”

I shook my head. “Not really.”

“Coffee or tea?”

“Tea, please.”

She poured me a cup without another word. It was the kind of quiet comfort I hadn’t felt in a long time.

I sipped slowly, trying to find the courage to ask the question that had been circling in my mind all night.

“Elena… has he changed?”

She paused, her back still to me. “He’s… hardened. After you left, he buried himself in work. Stopped letting people in. Even his friends barely see him now.”

My chest tightened. “I never meant to break him.”

She turned to face me. “And yet, you did.”

I lowered my eyes to the floor.

“But,” she added, placing a gentle hand on mine, “I don’t believe people break that easily unless they truly cared.”

That made something twist inside me. Guilt. Regret. Maybe both.

I didn’t reply. There was nothing I could say to make up for the damage I’d done.

“I should go,” I said quietly, standing up.

“Where?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t have come at all.”

Before she could respond, a deep voice cut through the air behind me.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

I froze.

Adrian stood in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, looking effortlessly composed. But his eyes were sharp, alert, watching me like I was a puzzle he still hadn’t solved.

“I told you last night,” he said, walking into the room, “you can stay. But I also said I want answers.”

I swallowed, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “And I told you—I’ll explain. Just not all at once.”

He didn’t blink. “Why not now?”

“Because I don’t know where to start.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Try the beginning.”

My fingers trembled slightly around the mug. “You remember my mom?”

He nodded once.

“She got sick. Real sick. And we couldn’t afford treatment. I was desperate. I needed money fast, and I… made a deal with someone. Someone I thought I could trust.”

Adrian narrowed his eyes. “What kind of deal?”

I hesitated. “One that came with consequences. At first, it seemed simple—sign a few things, make a few appearances. But then it turned darker. He started asking for more. Things I wasn’t willing to give.”

“Who is he?”

“I’ll tell you. Just… not yet. Please.”

His jaw clenched. “You’re still protecting him?”

“No. I’m protecting you.”

He stepped back slightly, stunned. “Me?”

“If I had stayed, he would’ve come after you too. I couldn’t let that happen.”

Adrian looked away, pacing the kitchen like a storm about to break.

“You think I needed protecting?” he snapped.

“Yes,” I said softly. “Because if he hurt you… I would’ve never forgiven myself.”

There was silence between us. Heavy. Unspoken things hanging in the air like smoke.

Elena cleared her throat. “I’ll leave you two alone,” she said, disappearing quietly.

Adrian leaned against the counter, running a hand through his hair. For a moment, he looked less like a billionaire and more like the man I used to love—the one who made pancakes at midnight and whispered secrets to the stars.

“I don’t know if I believe you,” he said finally.

“I don’t expect you to. Not yet.”

“But you still came back to me.”

I looked up at him. “Because you were the only person I ever felt safe with. And because I didn’t know where else to go.”

He was quiet again. Then: “You’re not safe here either. Not until I know who’s after you.”

“I know.”

“And if you lie to me—just once—I won’t help you.”

“I’m not lying.”

He studied my face like he was searching for cracks.

Then, surprisingly, he said, “Get dressed. We’re going out.”

“Where?”

“To find out how much trouble you’ve really brought to my door.”