That night, I couldn’t sleep.
Ten years.
Everything kept coming back to that number.
Ten years ago, Adrian met me.
Ten years ago, my parents were still together.
Ten years ago, Isabelle Blackwood was still alive.
Ten years ago, something happened.
And everyone had decided I was better off not knowing.
I went downstairs.
The lights in the library were on.
Adrian was sitting alone.
He looked up.
“You should be sleeping.”
“So should you.”
He closed the file in front of him.
“Come here.”
I walked toward him.
“What are you doing?”
“Reading.”
“About my family?”
“Yes.”
I sat across from him.
“Tell me something true.”
He looked at me.
“Anything.”
He thought for a moment.
“I hate hospitals.”
I blinked.
“That’s random.”
“You asked.”
“Why?”
“My mother died in one.”
My expression softened.
“I’m sorry.”
He nodded.
“I don’t talk about her.”
“Your mother was different.”
“How?”
“She never treated me like Marcus’s son.”
He looked down.
“She treated me like Adrian.”
I smiled.
“She sounds wonderful.”
“She was.”
Silence settled between us.
Then I asked:
“Did she love my mother?”
“Yes.”
“Did they trust each other?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did everything fall apart?”
His eyes met mine.
“Because people became afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Of losing everything.”
I thought about Daniel.
About Marcus.
About my father.
“That’s what destroys people, isn’t it?”
“Fear.”
He nodded.
I reached across the table.
My fingers touched his hand.
He didn’t move.
Neither did I.
“Do you regret marrying me?”
His eyes stayed on mine.
“No.”
“Why?”
His thumb traced the line of my palm.
“Because when I saw you that day…”
He stopped.
“At the wedding?”
“Yes.”
“What did you think?”
His expression softened.
“I thought you looked like someone who had just lost everything.”
I smiled sadly.
“I had.”
“And I wanted to give you something.”
“What?”
“A choice.”
My heart tightened.
“Adrian.”
He looked at me.
“I don’t know what will happen when this year ends.”
“Neither do I.”
“But I know one thing.”
“What?”
“I don’t want you to stay because of a contract.”
I stared at him.
Before I could answer, his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His face changed.
He stood immediately.
“What happened?”
He listened.
Then said:
“Where?”
He ended the call.
“Someone broke into your studio.”
I stood.
“What?”
“They’re there now.”
We ran.