Sophie’s POV
The silence after Adrian left wasn’t peace.
It was pressure — the kind that builds before something breaks.
For a long time, I stood there, staring at the faint reflection on the glass where his face had been. My coffee had gone cold. My pulse hadn’t.
Every word from the night before still replayed in my head — his control, my defiance, the heat that lived somewhere between anger and heartbreak.
And beneath it all, one name kept echoing like a heartbeat that refused to fade.
Hart Couture.
The company my father built, the empire Adrian buried.
And now, the only thing that could set me free.
I rinsed the cup, hands steady this time. The marble counter gleamed, the morning sun slicing through the windows with surgical precision. This house — his house — had become a glas
