( Adrian's POV )
Adrian hadn't slept.
The night had bled into morning, and morning into another sleepless dawn, and still his mind kept replaying the same scene — Elena standing in his office, trembling, angry, defending the very man who was hurting her.
Her voice echoed mercilessly in his skull:
"Do you know the day Nick left the house I fainted and he stayed there with me… cared for me… stayed awake the whole night and hasn't left me since."
"He told me the girls before were shallow… that none of them were deep enough to understand him."
"He said I was different."
Every word felt like a blade twisting inside his chest.
She fainted.
She fainted and I wasn't there.
She fainted and Nathan was.
Something had cracked inside him when she said it, something protective, something furious, something terrified.
And now, sitting in his office with a cold untouched mug beside him, Adrian finally admitted the truth:
He'd messed everything up.
Not just a little.
Catastrophically.
Showing her that file, coldly, bluntly, without buffer, without context, was the worst mistake he'd made in years.
He could see it now, painfully clearly.
I should've found a better way.
I should've softened the blow.
I should've talked, not confronted.
I should've remembered that Elena wasn't a case file or a business crisis… she was Elena.
Instead, he'd scared her.
Cornered her.
Pushed her straight into Nathan's arms.
And Nathan…
God, Nathan was moving faster than he expected.
This wasn't some casual flirtation.
Not some shallow crush Elena would giggle about and move on from.
This wasn't even the typical playboy cycle Nathan ran through.
No — this was deeper.
Darker.
More intentional.
He'd already wrapped his fingers around her, woven himself into her routines, her decisions, her instincts.
Too fast.
Much too fast.
Why would she hide it from me?
Why would she lie when she never lied to me?
I never talked badly about Nathan.
Never warned her against him.
Never tried to meddle in her choices.
So why the secrecy?
More importantly — who was stopping her?
His jaw clenched.
Nathan.
Of course.
"You're more cunning than I gave you credit for," Adrian muttered under his breath.
"But what the hell are you up to?"
Nathan wasn't stupid.
If this were just one of his games, he would've kept things casual, kept the consequences manageable.
But this?
This could blow back on both their families.
On their businesses.
On decades of partnership.
He isn't reckless enough to risk all that…
Unless this wasn't a game anymore.
Or unless the game had different stakes.
Adrian dragged a hand through his hair, chest aching.
And Elena…
God, Elena was mad at him.
For the first time in their lives.
Ignoring his calls.
Leaving his messages on seen.
He'd read them again this morning, each one more desperate than the last.
> Are you home?
Talk to me, please.
I'm sorry for overstepping.
You mean the most to me — I didn't want to scare you.
Anyone would react the way you did if shown something like that. I get it.
Where are you, Elena? You're not home. What's going on?
And he remembered that night, the one that changed everything.
Nick had messaged him, worried.
Told him she didn't look okay.
Asked him to check on her.
I'd gone.
Found her house lights on.
Found her room lit.
And found Nathan's car parked outside.
I'd texted her.
Waited in his own car.
Watched the windows.
Waited for Nathan to leave so i could check on her.
But Nathan never left.
I waited until '3 A.M'.
Still nothing.
The memory made something ugly twist inside him.
She lied to him the next morning — voice weak, distant, telling him she was "enjoying me-time."
No mention of fainting.
No mention of Nathan.
No mention of needing help.
Nathan had managed to wedge himself between them in less than a week.
How did he do that?
And why did it feel like Elena was slipping through Adrian's fingers fasterthan he could catch her?
His instincts screamed —
too loud, too sharp, too urgent.
Something was wrong.
Deeply wrong.
He couldn't ignore it anymore.
His phone buzzed.
A message from Isla.
> Adrian, I met Elena today. Where are you? I need to talk.
She doesn't look okay.
I'm coming to your office.
He read it once.
Twice.
A hot surge of panic and anger shot through him.
Did I make her look like this?
Did I break her trying to protect her?
Guilt crashed over him like a wave.
"Shame on you, Adrian," he whispered to himself.
"You were supposed to protect her, not add to the damage."
He typed back immediately.
> I'm in my office. Come now.
He set his phone down, pulse pounding.
Isla knew Elena better than almost anyone.
If even Isla was worried…
then something was dangerously wrong.
And Adrian had never been more certain of one thing in his life:
He wasn't going to leave Elena at Nathan's mercy.
Not again.
Not ever.
And he was ready to find out exactly what Isla knew.
—
Isla didn't knock.
She burst into Adrian's office with panic written all over her face, chest heaving, eyes shining with unshed tears.
Before he could stand, she crossed the room in three steps and threw her arms around him.
Adrian froze for a heartbeat, then held her tightly.
"What happened, Isla?" he asked, voice low, steady only because he forced it to be. He cupped the back of her head, pulling her closer when she shook.
"Start talking. Please. Your silence is killing me."
She pulled back, wiping under her eyes with trembling fingers.
"Adrian…" Isla's voice cracked. "She's really not okay."
His stomach dropped.
"What do you mean?"
"I tried to be strong in front of her," she rushed out, "tried not to add more pressure after what you already piled on her… but she's not herself. She looked… Adrian, she looked disconnected. Like she was… somewhere far away and fighting to stay present."
A sharp pain slammed through his chest.
He took a step back, bracing a hand on his desk.
"W–what do you mean exactly?"
Isla swallowed, tears spilling over.
"Nathan is going too fast. Maybe it's normal for him… he's older, more experienced… but for Elena, this is not normal. She can't handle this pace. She's not… ready. I'm scared he… hurt her."
Something inside Adrian shattered, violently and without warning. A soundless, brutal break that left his breath punched out of him.
"Hurt her?" His voice came out strangled. "What are you saying?"
"She was waddling like a penguin when she walked," Isla stuttered, face twisting with pain. "Her posture… Adrian… She-she's… hurt. Something happened… last night."
He closed his eyes.
"God."
"I even saw…" Isla hesitated, but forced it out, "I saw hickeys on her neck."
Adrian's eyes snapped open.
"Oh, for f—" he pushed a hand through his hair, pacing, fury radiating off him in waves.
"Is he out of his damn mind?"
His fists clenched.
"That bastard. Is he treating her like some casual—"
He stopped before the word escaped, jaw shaking.
Fuck! That piece of horse-shit!
"Did you try to talk to her?" he demanded, voice breaking. "She's not answering me anymore—"
"Yes," Isla whispered. "I tried. I asked her. She… she said… she doesn't 'know' what happened."
Doesn't know?
The words hit him like a punch.
"One moment they were intimate," Isla continued, voice trembling, "and the next… he didn't stop. Adrian—" her voice cracked painfully, "I think he forced himself on her. And she—she doesn't even 'realize' it."
His breath stopped.
Everything in him went still.
Silent.
Then—
"Elena was crying?" he forced out. The pain in his chest felt like someone just hit him with a sharp knife.
"No," Isla whispered, "worse. It felt like her tears had dried up. She looked drained. Empty."
Adrian gripped the edge of his desk so hard his knuckles turned bone-white.
"I want to call Nick," Isla said suddenly. "Tell him what's happening—"
Adrian snapped, "Have you lost it? Nick will kill Nathan."
"No! I meant… call him back to London," Isla corrected, shaking. "We need help. We need to ground her. She needs someone she can't hide from... She's falling for Nathan so fast she can't see straight."
Adrian let out a long, broken breath.
"I feel it too," he admitted quietly. "She's grown distant. She doesn't let us in. And now she's lying."
Isla bit her lip — hard.
"What?" he demanded. "Spit it out, Isla. No more half-truths. If we're going to help her, you need to tell me everything. All of it."
Isla closed her eyes, gathering herself.
"Elena told me about him," she whispered. "Before all this. She said she felt this spark with Nathan. She was… worried about it. 'Conflicted'. She said he was moving fast. Too fast."
Adrian's pulse roared.
"But every time she talked about him," Isla continued, "she also said he was perfect. Caring. Sweet. And she made me promise to keep it a secret from you and Nick. So I respected her choice and supported her."
Pain sliced through Adrian's chest.
He walked to the cabinet, pulled out the file, and placed it in front of Isla.
Her breath caught.
She froze.
A hand flew to her mouth.
Her eyes moved across the pages, slow at first, then faster, each line draining the color from her face.
"I… oh my God." Isla stumbled back. "Oh my God, Adrian. What have I done? I told her it was normal. I told her it takes time. I told her he looked honest… I told her—"
"It's not your fault," Adrian said, though his voice cracked.
Isla threw the file onto the floor like it burned her.
"The last time I saw them together," she whispered, shaking harder, "he was looking at her like I wasn't even there. Like she was the only thing in the room."
She choked on the next words.
"I thought it was romantic. I left to give them privacy. I left her with him."
Tears streamed down Isla's face as she covered her mouth again.
"I left her," she repeated, voice breaking, "with him."
"You didn't know," he murmured, though his eyes burned with guilt, fury, and fear. "Neither of us did."
Isla cried into his shoulder.
"She's not fine, Adrian," Isla whispered. "She's pretending. But something is wrong. Deeply wrong."
Adrian's jaw tightened, he felt losing control. He was infuriated.
"I know," he whispered.
And for the first time since this began —
he felt real fear.
Not just anger.
Not just suspicion.
Not just guilt.
Fear.
Fear for Elena.
Fear of what Nathan had already done.
Fear of what he still planned to do.
She's been his favourite person in this whole damn world. He would tear Nathan apart if he'd done something wrong with her. She's far too precious for him!
But one thing became very clear:
They were already too late to stop the damage.
But not too late to save her.
Not yet.
Adrian dragged a hand down his face, the weight of everything finally settling like stone in his chest.
We should call Nick. Get him back ASAP.
He exhaled long, defeated. The kind of breath that empties a man from the inside out.
Because deep down, he knew it.
He was partly responsible for this mess.
I got busy with work.
Her parents left.
Nick almost absent.
I threw myself into this new project.
And he slipped right in… perfectly timed.
Too perfectly.
Elena had come crying to him once.
She had been scared, vulnerable, shaken.
I knew she was inexperienced. Fragile in matters of the heart.
And I left her alone at the worst moment, when she needed someone the most.
"Fuck…" Adrian muttered under his breath, pacing the room.
How could I not see this?
How could I leave her alone long enough for him to worm his way in?
How many coincidences can there be before they stop being coincidences?
Her parents suddenly out of the country.
Nick out of town.
I was drowning in deadlines.
Is this all just timing…
or did someone plan to isolate her?
A cold dread crawled down his spine.
Fuck. This is deeper than I thought.
Beside him, Isla picked up her phone with trembling fingers and dialed Nick.
It rang once.
"Hey babe! Wassup?" Nick's voice filled the speaker — cheerful, warm, completely unaware of the storm waiting for him.
Isla didn't waste time.
"Nick, how soon can you come back home?"
His tone changed instantly.
"What happened, darling? Are you okay?"
Adrian ignored the endearment. He stepped closer to the phone.
"Nick… Elena isn't fine."
A beat of silence.
"She fainted a few days back," Adrian forced out. "And she-she… man, come back. She won't talk to me anymore."
"What? Dree, what? How—what's happening over there?"
Adrian swallowed a lump in his throat.
"She's dating Nathan."
Isla winced at how blunt that sounded.
"And something bad… unnatural… could have happened between them," Adrian continued. "But Isla isn't sure. Elena isn't telling anyone."
He briefed Nick on everything. The file, the distancing, the fight in his office.
"I don't think she's safe, man. Drop whatever you're doing and come back."
Silence.
A full five seconds.
Then Nick's voice came out low and deadly serious:
"Dree, I'm coming back. Stay close to her. Even if she kills you for it. Don't leave her alone until I reach."
"Promise," Adrian replied.
The call ended.
Isla stood frozen — wide-eyed, pale, shaken.
Adrian grabbed his keys, ready to head straight to Elena's house.
He didn't care if she screamed at him.
I'd take it for her. I'd take anything for her.
His phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
He picked up.
"Hi Adrian, Nathan here. Can I talk to you for a minute?"
Adrian's grip tightened on the phone. Isla saw the shift and mouthed, Who is it?
He hit speaker.
"Yes. Sure. What do you want to talk about, Nathan?"
The anger in his voice wasn't even hidden.
Nathan's tone was smooth. Too smooth.
"By now, you must have been informed by your parents that the new project you're working on… is mine."
Adrian froze.
WTF?
Nathan continued, almost amused,
"Don't tell me your parents didn't inform you. You're working with us, Adrian. That makes us partners."
"Right," Adrian forced out, stunned, muscles tensing.
Where's he taking this…?
"Yes," Nathan repeated. "And I want you to know we should maintain that relationship. Professionally."
He stressed the word like a warning.
Like a line drawn in the sand.
"You're sharp, Adrian. That's why I partnered with your parents when they told me you're leading this project."
A beat.
"And you know how important this project is for both of us. So I'm asking — don't push me further. Don't poke into my personal affairs."
His tone was flat. Cold. Sarcastic.
As if he was dictating the rules of their partnership.
Adrian snapped.
"Nathan, I don't give a fuck about your personal affairs. But Elena isn't your personal affair. She's my business too. And you don't play with the people I care about."
He spit the words back like venom.
"Isn't that what you're asking me? Don't poke in your business and you won't poke in mine?"
Nathan laughed — dry, amused, taunting.
"I like competition."
"Elena is NOT a game," Adrian growled.
"Great," Nathan said smoothly. "I said the same. She's a person. And she chose me."
His voice dropped into a cruel calm.
"So suck it up and let it sink."
Bastard. Fucking psychopath!
Adrian gritted his teeth.
Nathan continued,
"I'd be very careful if I were you. This is the first big project your parents trusted you with. Wouldn't want to jeopardize your future over Elena."
Adrian's blood went cold.
Then boiled and laughed at him.
He's doesn't know me at all!
"Nathan, you don't know how much I can jeopardize for the people I love," he hissed. "Go fuck yourself."
Nathan laughed softly.
"You're stubborn. I like that. I'll just have to request your parents to put some sense into you."
A razor-thin pause.
"You lack maturity."
He hung up.
Before Adrian could reply.
Before Adrian could rip him apart.
I lack maturity? That bastard didn't have any!
The room fell into a dead, furious silence.
Isla stood frozen — fear and fury mixing on her face.
Adrian stared at his phone, jaw clenched so tight it hurt.
Nathan had just declared war.
And the stakes were too high for him to back out.
Adrian stood there for a moment, chest heaving, knuckles white around his phone.
He felt the anger in his bloodstream — hot, acid, burning with something far more personal than he wanted to admit.
"Nathan," he hissed at the now–dead line,
"I won't let you destroy her."
His voice shook — not with fear, but with rage. Raw, protective rage.
"She's too scared," he bit out, staring at the phone as if it were Nathan himself.
"Too gentle. Too damn trusting to be toyed with."
His throat tightened.
"And you think I'll let you get away with it?"
He didn't realize how loudly he'd said it until Isla flinched beside him.
"Dree…" she whispered, trying to calm him down.
But he was already moving.
"Fuck!" he exploded, the word ripping out of him as he shoved the chair back so hard it hit the wall.
He didn't wait.
He grabbed his keys, shrugged on his jacket, anger pulsing through every step.
Isla hurried after him.
"Adrian—where are you going?"
He didn't look back.
"To her," he snapped.
"Before he gets another chance to do anything else."
He didn't know what he'd find.
He didn't know what state she was in.
He didn't know how much damage had already been done.
But he knew one thing with brutal clarity:
Elena wasn't safe.
Not from Nathan.
Not from the lies she was telling herself.
Not from the silence she was drowning in.
And there was no universe in which he'd sit back and watch her fall apart.
Not again.
Not under Nathan Brown's hands.
Adrian slammed his office door behind him and strode down the hallway, his pulse pounding like war drums.
The line had been drawn.
Nathan had made it personal.
And Adrian Knight was done being polite.