Security guards combed the west wing. Every hallway echoed with radio chatter, clipped words, heavy boots. Adrian's orders were sharp and quiet, a commander in his element but his calm was only surface deep.
From her room, Elena watched through the open door as men moved past with grim faces and black gloves. Every now and then, one would glance at her, quickly look away, and keep walking.
She was invisible again.
Exactly as Adrian had chosen her to be.
But invisibility didn't shield her from fear.
She hadn't been able to erase the sound the crack of the gun, the smell of smoke, the way Adrian's hand had shaken when he thought she wasn't looking.
He'd killed a man.
Right in front of her.
And somehow, instead of running, she'd kissed him.
Her reflection stared back from the mirror, pale, eyes hollow.
What was happening to her?
A knock came at her door. She froze.
"Elena." Adrian's voice, low, calm, but threaded with something fragile. "We need to talk."
She hesitated, then opened the door.
He stood there, jacket gone, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly mussed. A faint bruise darkened the side of his jaw where the fight had caught him.
For the first time, Adrian Vale didn't look like a billionaire or a king.
He looked like a man who hadn't slept in years.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
She almost laughed the question sounded absurd. "You mean after watching someone die in your study?"
His jaw tightened. "You shouldn't have seen that."
"You keep saying that," she said quietly. "Like hiding the truth will make it disappear."
He exhaled, the sound weary. "Some truths are poison, Elena. You don't drink them unless you're ready for what they do to you."
"I'm already poisoned," she said. "You just don't want to admit it."
His eyes darkened. "You think this is a game?"
"No," she whispered. "I think it's a warning."
They stared at each other for a long, heavy moment.
Then Adrian turned, motioning for her to follow. "Come with me. There's something you need to see."
He led her through a corridor she hadn't seen before narrow, lined with portraits covered by white sheets. Dust hung in the air. It felt like walking through time.
At the end of the hall, he stopped in front of a locked door. He pulled a small silver key from around his neck.
"This is my father's study," he said. "It's been closed for ten years."
The lock clicked. The door creaked open.
The air inside was colder, untouched. Bookshelves lined the walls, and in the center stood a massive oak desk, exactly like the one in Adrian's own office only older, darker. A single photo sat on it: a man who looked almost identical to Adrian, smiling beside a woman with soft eyes.
"My parents," he said simply.
Elena approached the desk, her gaze drawn to the photograph. "They look… happy."
"They were. Until they weren't."
He stepped closer, his tone turning quiet. "My father built Vale Enterprises from the ground up. But power doesn't stay clean for long. He got involved with people who promised protection. The Syndicate. They made him rich then they made him pay."
Her heart beat faster. "The same Syndicate you run now?"
His expression hardened. "I don't run it. I control the parts that would destroy everything if left unchecked."
"That's a pretty way of saying you inherited a crime empire."
His eyes flicked to hers sharp, warning. "Careful."
She didn't back down. "You brought me here to see this. So stop hiding."
He looked away, jaw flexing. "My father was killed when I was twenty-two. The Syndicate turned on him. Someone leaked information his accounts, his movements and they made an example of him. My mother died six months later."
"Because of them?"
"Because of me," he said. "I was the leak. Unintentionally. I trusted someone I shouldn't have."
The words dropped like stones.
Elena froze. "You..."
"I didn't know what I was giving them," he said, voice rough now, stripped of all control. "I thought I was saving him. Instead, I buried him."
The confession hung in the air. For a man like Adrian, admitting weakness was like bleeding in front of wolves.
She stepped closer, her voice soft. "You were just a kid."
He laughed bitterly. "And kids grow into monsters when they survive things they shouldn't."
The silence stretched, broken only by the rain.
Then he looked at her really looked. "That's why I married you, Elena. Not because you were convenient. Because I needed someone untouchable. Someone the Syndicate couldn't trace or manipulate."
Her chest tightened. "So I'm your shield."
"You were," he said. "Until tonight."
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
"The man who broke in wasn't after me."
Her stomach dropped. "He...he came for me?"
Adrian nodded slowly. "They wanted to send a message. That nothing I care about is safe."
She stepped back, the room suddenly colder. "But I'm not supposed to matter to you."
He didn't answer.
"Adrian," she said again, louder this time. "You told me this was just a contract. That there were rules, no love, no lies, no expectations."
"And yet here you are," he said softly, "breaking all three."
Her breath caught. "That's not fair."
"Neither is this world," he murmured.
The air between them changed, heavier, charged. His nearness made her dizzy. There was danger in his gaze, yes, but something else too, a rawness that scared her even more than his power.
He reached for her hand, slow, deliberate. His thumb brushed the inside of her wrist, the place where her pulse beat the fastest.
"Do you regret it?" he asked. "Signing the papers. Becoming mine."
She wanted to say yes.
She wanted to lie.
But her voice betrayed her. "I don't know anymore."
He smiled faintly, not cruelly, but sadly. "That's the most honest thing you've said to me."
A knock shattered the moment.
"Sir," a guard's voice came from the hall. "We found something."
Adrian's hand dropped. His tone turned cold again. "What?"
The guard entered, holding a small black envelope. No markings. No seal.
"It was pinned to the main gate. Addressed to you, sir."
Adrian took it, slit it open with a knife. Inside was a single photo.
He went still.
Elena moved closer. "What is it?"
He handed it to her silently.
Her heart nearly stopped.
It was a picture of her, at the hospital two months ago, sitting by her brother's bed. The date was printed in red ink.
The day Adrian's lawyer approached her with the contract.
"Someone knew about me," she whispered.
Adrian's expression hardened to ice. "They've known for longer than I realized."
Her voice trembled. "So what now?"
He looked at her, eyes burning with something dark and fierce. "Now, I make them regret touching what's mine."
She stepped back, pulse racing. "You can't fight everyone, Adrian."
"Watch me."
He turned toward the door, his presence like a storm about to break. But before leaving, he paused, his voice lower, rougher.
"Stay close to me from now on. No more locked doors between us. Understand?"
She swallowed. "Is that protection or control?"
He met her gaze. "At this point, they're the same thing."
And then he was gone.
Elena stood alone in the dead man's study, the photo trembling in her hands.
The storm outside raged harder, lightning slicing across the sky and for the first time since the contract began, she realized this marriage wasn't just a transaction.
It was a war.
And she was standing in the middle of it.