Chapter 3
1127 Words
Elena did not sleep.
She lay awake in the narrow bed of her rented apartment, staring at the cracked ceiling while dawn slowly bled through the curtains.
On the table beside her sat Adrian’s card.
She had thrown it away three times during the night.
Each time, she picked it back up.
By morning, the edges were bent and soft from her hands.
From the other room came the sound of coughing.
Her mother.
Elena rose immediately and hurried down the short hallway, The apartment was small enough that every sound belonged to everyone. Her mother sat upright on the sofa bed, one hand pressed to her chest.
“I’m fine,” Nora Hart said before Elena could speak.
“You’re coughing blood and calling it fine again?”
“It was not blood.”
“It was red.”
“It was tea.”
Elena folded her arms. “You hate tea.”
Nora gave a tired smile. Even sick, she still carried traces of the elegant woman she used to be, Grace had survived where money had not.
“I heard about the party,” Nora said.
Elena stiffened. “How?”
“It’s on every screen in the city, You slapped a billionaire.”
Heat climbed Elena’s neck. “He deserved worse.”
“That part I believe.”
Her mother’s smile faded. “Did he really offer to clear your father’s name?”
Elena said nothing.
That was answer enough.
Nora looked away, eyes shining with pain that had nothing to do with illness. “Your father died waiting for the truth.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you still here?”
Because Adrian Vale was poison.
Because loving him once nearly destroyed her.
Because stepping back into his world meant risking the little peace she had rebuilt from ash.
Instead, she said, “I don’t trust him.”
“Good,” Nora replied. “Trust slowly. But go.”
Elena blinked. “You want me to marry him?”
“I want you to fight for your father.”
Those words followed her for the next two hours.
By noon, she stood outside iron gates taller than any house she had ever lived in.
Vale Estate.
Even the name irritated her.
The guard at the entrance recognized her instantly and opened the gates without question, That unsettled her more than if he had demanded proof.
The driveway curved through acres of trimmed gardens and fountains that looked expensive enough to insult entire nations.
She remembered coming here once at twenty-two, laughing in the passenger seat while Adrian drove too fast and kissed her hand at red lights.
She remembered leaving in tears.
The mansion rose ahead—stone, glass, and ruthless perfection.
A maid opened the door before Elena knocked.
“Miss Hart,” the woman said politely. “He’s expecting you.”
“Of course he is.”
She stepped inside.
Nothing had changed.
The marble floors still gleamed, and the staircase still swept upward like something from a movie. Fresh white lilies scented the air.
He used to keep orchids.
Why had he changed them?
Ridiculous thing to notice.
“Library,” the maid said.
Elena knew the way.
She found Adrian standing by the windows, jacket off, sleeves rolled to his forearms, Sunlight cut across the room, sharpening every line of him.
He turned as she entered, gaze dropping briefly to the overnight bag in her hand.
“I didn’t bring clothes,” she said coolly. “This is symbolic.”
His mouth almost curved. “You came anyway.”
“I came for answers.”
“And if you don’t like them?”
“I leave.”
“Fair.”
He gestured to the table.
Documents covered it files, photographs, timelines.
No games, then.
Elena stepped closer.
At the center lay a photograph of her father shaking hands with a man she recognized instantly.
Victor Dane.
Former family adviser, trusted friend. Present at every major Hart meeting for years.
Her stomach twisted.
“He handled our legal affairs.”
“He handled your downfall,” Adrian said.
“No.”
“He forged offshore transfers, bribed auditors, and sold Hart Industries piece by piece through proxies.”
Elena shook her head. “My father trusted him.”
“That’s why it worked.”
She stared at the evidence. Signatures, Dates, Accounts.
Each page felt like another c***k in the story she had carried for five years.
“Why wasn’t he charged?”
“He disappeared before I could reach him.”
“You knew?”
“I suspected.” Adrian’s voice hardened. “By the time I knew enough, your father was dead and you were gone.”
Emotion rose hot and ugly in her throat.
She looked at him sharply. “You still testified.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Because Dane threatened to release altered records tying you to the fraud.”
Her breath caught.
“He said if I fought publicly, you would go down with your father.”
“You expect me to believe you sacrificed my family to save me?”
“I expect nothing from you.”
The quiet certainty in his voice hurt more than shouting would have.
Elena turned away.
All these years she had built herself around hatred. It had kept her upright, focused, and Alive.
What would have happened if hatred had been built on half-truths?
“What do you want from me really?” she asked.
His answer came without pause.
“You beside me.”
She faced him slowly.
“For business?”
“For everything.”
The room went still.
Then Elena laughed once, sharp and disbelieving.
“You don’t lose, do you? Even now, you think you can reopen old wounds and call it love.”
“I never called it old.”
He crossed the room until only a breath separated them.
“You think I asked for marriage because the board demanded it?” he said softly. “I can replace a board.”
“Then why?”
“Because it was the only offer you might accept.”
Her pulse betrayed her.
“This is manipulation.”
“This is desperation.”
Before she could answer, the library doors burst open.
A glamorous woman in heels and fury stormed inside.
Vanessa Moreau.
Her eyes landed on Elena, then Adrian.
“So it’s true,” Vanessa said coldly. “You brought her here.”
Adrian didn’t look away from Elena. “Leave, Vanessa.”
Vanessa laughed bitterly. “Tell her the truth first.”
Elena’s skin went cold.
“What truth?”
Vanessa smiled like a knife.
“That he’s already engaged to someone else.”
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD