Adrien’s POVI walked out of my office, my eyes stinging from staring at the screen for too long. The living room was bathed in a dim, orange glow. Elena had fallen asleep on the sofa, her body slightly twisted, a stray lock of hair falling across her pale face.The bottle of Saint-Émilion was bone dry.Her phone was glowing on the rug, right next to her limp hand. I picked it up. A notification from The Economist flashed on the screen: "Damon Lambert confirms engagement to Victoire de Rohan; ceremony set for next month."Lambert. That name hung over her like a toxic cloud."Adrien?" she murmured, her voice thick with wine."Did I wake you? Sorry. You drank way too much."I went to get her a glass of water. When I came back, she was trying to sit up, her silk dress bunching around her. As I handed her the glass, I had a momentary lapse—my thumb slipped, the glass tilted, and a few drops splashed onto her delicate hand."Dammit, sorry," I muttered.Before she could react, I grabbed her
Last Updated : 2026-04-11 Read more