Adrian’s sleep was never peaceful. But that night, it was broken.
He jolted upright before dawn, cold sweat clinging to his back. He wasn’t sure if it was instinct or dread, but something felt off. The sheets beside him were empty, Valentina was gone.
He found her downstairs in the dim-lit kitchen, barefoot, hair a wild halo. Her eyes met his briefly before returning to the glass in her hand. Red wine. Too early. Or maybe too late.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said, voice hoarse.
Adrian leaned against the doorframe. “That makes two of us.”
She sipped the wine again, slow and deliberate. “You said something yesterday. About me hating you if I knew the truth.”
“I did.”
She looked at him, gaze direct. “Then tell me now. Before I find out from someone else.”
He didn’t move. “You’re not read
