The ballroom buzzed with shock as Damian was dragged away, still smiling like a man who had nothing to lose. The haunting calm in his eyes echoed in Elena's mind, lingering long after the music stopped.
Adrian kept his arm tightly around her waist, his other hand shielding her from the murmuring crowd. "Let's get out of here."
She nodded, too shaken to argue.
The drive back to the penthouse was silent, save for the distant hum of the city. Elena sat curled into her seat, her fingers trembling despite the warmth of Adrian's palm wrapped around hers.
When they stepped into the elevator, she finally broke the silence. "That look in his eyes… Adrian, what if he's still not done?"
Adrian met her gaze, jaw clenched. "He's going to prison. We have enough evidence to press multiple charges. Trespassing. Corporate espionage. Cyber crimes. He won't see daylight for a long time."
"But that smile—" she hesitated. "It didn't look like defeat. It looked like he still had something planned."
Adrian ran a hand down his face. "If he does, we'll stop him. No matter what."
The doors opened. Elena stepped into the penthouse and immediately noticed something odd.
The lights were already on.
Adrian froze beside her. "Stay behind me."
He moved ahead cautiously, checking the rooms. Elena trailed after him, her heart pounding louder with every step.
Nothing seemed out of place—until they reached Adrian's office.
The door was ajar.
Adrian pushed it open slowly.
Inside, a single envelope sat on his desk.
He picked it up, his fingers tense. The envelope was unmarked. No name. No return address.
Inside was a photograph.
Of Elena.
Standing at a grave.
Her mother's grave.
The timestamp in the corner was from two days ago.
Elena stepped closer, her face draining of color. "That was… I didn't tell anyone I went there. Not even you."
Adrian turned the photo over.
Scrawled in red ink were three chilling words:"Blood must answer."
The security team combed the entire building again that night, but there was no sign of a break-in. No footage. No prints. Nothing.
"He's playing mind games," Adrian growled, tossing the photo into the fireplace. "Trying to make you paranoid."
Elena stood by the window, staring into the darkness. "It's working."
Adrian crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. "No one will hurt you, Elena. I promise you that."
She rested her head against his chest. "This isn't just about me anymore. He's pulling at something deeper. Something personal."
Adrian tensed. "What do you mean?"
She hesitated. "That day at my mother's grave… I heard something. Someone was watching me. I thought it was just my nerves, but now…"
Adrian's grip on her waist tightened. "You should've told me."
"I didn't want to worry you. And besides… it felt too ridiculous."
"Nothing is ridiculous anymore," he muttered. "Not with him involved."
Elena pulled away slightly to look at him. "What if this goes beyond you and me, Adrian? What if Damian isn't working alone? What if someone close to us is helping him?"
Adrian nodded slowly. "Then we find them. And we burn every last bridge they've built."
The next day, Elena returned to the company for the first time since the gala. She walked through the lobby with her head high, heels clicking confidently against the marble floor. But inside, her heart felt fragile, as if one whisper could crack it open.
Mia greeted her with a strained smile. "Everyone's been talking about you."
"I'm sure they have," Elena said, brushing past. "Let them talk."
In her office, she found a new bouquet of flowers on her desk. No note.
She frowned. "Did someone send this?"
Mia stepped in behind her. "No idea. It wasn't logged at reception."
Elena's stomach twisted. She walked over, examined the bouquet—dark red peonies, unusual and almost too perfect.
She plucked out a small tag buried beneath the petals.
One word.
Soon.
Her breath caught.
She turned sharply. "Get security to sweep this office. Now."
That evening, Adrian called a meeting with the board.
It wasn't just about company business anymore—it was about control.
As Elena watched him from the side of the sleek boardroom, she saw the man she had married not for love, but for protection. And now, months later, she realized just how fiercely he was willing to protect her—even from his own blood.
"We've contained the internal leaks," Adrian said coldly. "We've tightened all digital and physical security. From this moment on, every piece of information goes through triple verification."
The room was silent.
One of the older board members, Mr. Fenton, cleared his throat. "Is this about your brother again?"
"Half-brother," Adrian corrected.
"And you're sure he's working alone?"
Adrian's eyes met Elena's before he answered. "I'm not."
The tension crackled like electricity.
"Then what's your next step?" Fenton pressed.
Adrian smiled grimly. "Smoke him out."
Later that night, Elena stood on the balcony of their penthouse, the city lights glittering below like stars spilled across black velvet.
Adrian joined her, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders.
"Cold?" he murmured.
"A little."
They stood in silence for a moment, the wind tugging gently at her hair.
"Do you regret it?" she asked quietly. "Marrying me?"
Adrian turned to her slowly. "Is that a real question?"
She met his gaze, her eyes soft. "Everything's changed since I became your wife. I'm not sure if it was fate or punishment."
He cupped her cheek. "You changed me. Don't you see that?"
"I didn't mean to."
"But you did. And now I can't imagine going back."
Elena's heart fluttered.
"I never thought I could love someone like this," he said. "But you—Elena—you made me believe again."
Her lips parted, but no words came.
He leaned down, kissed her softly.
The kind of kiss that made the world blur.
"I'll protect you," he whispered. "From him. From everyone. Even from myself, if I have to."
Elena nodded, eyes misted. "Then let's protect each other."
Across town, in a shadowed room lit only by a monitor's blue glow, Damian sat watching the footage.
Of Elena.
Of Adrian.
Of the two of them kissing on the balcony.
He leaned back in his chair, lips curling.
"She thinks she's safe," he muttered.
He picked up his phone and dialed a number.
A female voice answered.
"It's time," he said. "Make the call."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. The next piece moves tonight."
He hung up and stared at the screen.
"Let's see how far love can be pushed before it breaks."