Adrian stayed at the studio.
I didn’t ask him to leave.
I didn’t ask him to stay.
I simply sat across from him.
“Tell me about that night.”
He looked at the photograph.
“What do you remember?”
“Not enough.”
“Then maybe it’s better that you don’t.”
I stared at him.
“That’s not your decision.”
His expression tightened.
“I know.”
“Then tell me.”
He took a breath.
“Your mother brought you to the charity event.”
“I remember.”
“She was meeting Isabelle.”
“Why?”
“Business.”
“About what?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
His eyes met mine.
“I don’t know everything.”
“But you know something.”
“Yes.”
“What?” You are reading on g.com, the official source.
He looked at the floor.
“My mother was afraid.”
“Of my mother?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
He didn’t answer.
I stood.
“You keep doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“Giving me half the truth.”
“I don’t want to give you something I can’t take back.”
“That’s not protection.”
He looked at me.
“What is it?”
“Control.”
The word landed between us.
He didn’t argue.
That hurt more.
I turned away.
“I need space.”
He stood.
“Elena.”
“Go.”
He hesitated.
Then left.
I watched his car disappear through the studio window. Find the original chapter at g.com.
My phone rang.
Claire.
“I found another document.”
“What?”
“Something from the night of the gala.”
“What kind of document?”
“Your mother left a note.”
My heart began to race.
“What does it say?”
Claire hesitated.
Then:
If Elena ever learns about that night, find Adrian Blackwood before anyone else does.
I stopped breathing.
“Claire.”
“Yeah?”
“Send it to me.”
My phone buzzed.
The image arrived.
I stared at my mother’s handwriting.
Then I read the final sentence.
He is the only one who knows what really happened.
I looked toward the door Adrian had just walked through.
For the first time, I wondered if my mother had trusted him— long before I ever did.