Elena’s POV
The morning began like so many others, deceptively ordinary. Coffee brewing, sunlight spilling unevenly across the kitchen counter, the low hum of the city seeping through half-open windows. I had slipped into the quiet ritual of buttering toast while Adrian scrolled through emails on his phone, his jaw flexing faintly the way it always did when he was filtering between urgent and ignorable.
It should have been an unremarkable moment, but it wasn’t.
“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, the sound sharp enough to make me glance over.
My stomach tightened. “What is it?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he swiped across his phone again, shoulders stiffening. Then he placed it face down on the counter, the gesture too controlled, too deliberate.
“Adrian?”
He exhaled
