The silence between us stretches until it becomes unbearable.
“Tell me that’s not true,” I repeat.
Adrian stands a few feet away, the city lights cutting across his face in sharp lines of shadow and gold. For the first time since I woke up from the accident, he looks… cornered.
Not angry.
Not defensive.
Cornered.
My pulse beats harder.
“Adrian.”
He exhales slowly.
“Yes,” he says.
The single word hits harder than any denial could have.
My chest tightens.
“You married me because of a merger clause?”
“No.”
“But it existed.”
“Yes.”
My mind spins.
“What kind of clause ties a corporate merger to a marriage?”
Adrian runs a hand through his hair, the movement restless.
“A strategic protection clause,” he says.
“That sounds like legal language for manipulation.”
“Not exactly.”
