Layla stood in the middle of Adrian's penthouse, arms crossed tight, with the cold glass walls behind her doing nothing to help. The city lights spilled into the room, casting long shadows on the floor like ghosts neither of them could escape.
Adrian hadn't said a word since she finished.
She could still hear her words—unsteady but powerful enough to show the truth about who her dad was, what he did, and what it all meant. She didn't blink or look away.
But now, she just wanted him to say something.
Adrian leaned against the kitchen island, jaw tight, eyes hard to read. His usual calm expression, which used to be so attractive, now seemed like a barrier. "Just say something," she said softly, her voice shaky. He didn't look at her."You should've told me."
"I tried. That day at the café, I wanted to."
"But you didn't."
She stepped forward. "Because I was terrified. Not of you—of what it would change. And look," she gestured helplessly between them, "it has."
Adrian's gaze finally met hers. There was no hatred. No fury. Just… betrayal. "You let me fall for you while hiding the one thing that could burn this to the ground."
Tears pricked her eyes. "I didn't let you fall for me. It happened. Just like I fell for you."
He laughed bitterly. "Is that supposed to make this easier?"
"No. It's the truth.Adrian turned away and ran his fingers through his hair. "You know what your dad did to my family?" "Yeah," she replied, raising her voice. "I know way more than you realize." I know he was reckless. I know he was selfish. I know he ruined people. He also ruined me, Adrian."
He paused.
I've spent my whole life trying to fix what he messed up," she said.
"Why do you think I started Hart to Heart? I took his name and tried to make something good out of it."
Adrian's silence twisted something deep in her chest.
She crossed the room slowly, placing a trembling hand on the counter. "You want to hate me for what he did? Go ahead. But don't stand there and pretend you don't feel what's between us."
He looked at her then. Something cracked in his expression. "What if I do feel it, Layla? What if that's the problem?"
She blinked, surprised."What do you mean?" "I mean…" He sighed heavily, as if it was hard for him to say it."My father already suspects. He's watching. Waiting for a reason to come down on you, and if I keep seeing you—if I keep protecting you—he'll use it."
Layla's heart thudded. "Are you saying we should stop?"
Adrian fixed for a second before speaking. He went to the window and placed his hands on the glass, I just can't figure out how to keep you safe and still feel tied to this place, he said. Layla looked at him and replied, Maybe you need to decide. He turned around gradually, and that's when she noticed a hint of fear in his eyes for the first time. That's what makes it tough, Layla." I don't want to make a choice."
Silence stretched between them like a wire pulled too tight.
Then his phone buzzed on the counter.
Layla flinched. Adrian didn't move to pick it up—but the screen lit with a preview of the message.
Blocked number.
Again.
She walked over and turned it toward him.
> "She's not the only secret you're keeping. The board won't stay silent forever. Check your father's trust ledger. Then decide who you're protecting."
Adrian stared at the screen.
His breath caught.
Layla whispered, "What does that mean?"
He stayed quiet and went over to a cabinet. He took out a black folder that looked like it had been sitting there for a bit. Layla watched him with a mix of confusion and concern as he turnover through the pages, scanning the numbers, names, and dates.
Then he stopped.
He went still.
Too still.
"Adrian?" she said gently.
His eyes met hers.
And this time, he was the one unraveling.
"I think…" He swallowed hard. "I think my father's been paying someone to keep a file on you. On us. Since the gala."
Her stomach dropped. "Why would he—"
"He's preparing to discredit you. And if what I'm reading is right… he's done this before."
"To who?"
Adrian's hands tightened around the folder. "Anyone who's ever crossed him."
Layla stepped back, feeling a bit uneasy. Do you really think he's after me?Adrian's jaw tightened. "No. I think he already has a plan in motion."
They stood there, everything feeling unsteady around them. Adrian talked quietly, "I won't let that happen." Layla struggled to hold back her tears. "What will you do?" When their eyes closed, he seemed more confident than ever. "I'll do whatever it takes." That night, as Layla got home, her heart was moving faster. She wasn't sure if she could completely trust him, but a part of her wanted to. "Whatever it takes."." Even later, she still felt that mix of doubt and hope. Needed to.
The air in her apartment felt heavy, charged. She moved toward her desk, flipping open her laptop to search for damage control options.
That's when she saw it.
An email.
No subject. No sender.
Just a link.
Her pulse raced. Against every rational instinct, she clicked it.
A video file loaded. Grainy. Old. But the voice that echoed from the speakers was unmistakable.
Her father's voice.
She watched, frozen, as Thomas Hart spoke into the camera—angry, desperate, slurring slightly.
"I took the fall. But Elliot Blackwell—he was in on it. The deal, the leak, all of it. I kept my mouth shut. I went down alone. But if anyone finds this… know this—he was never innocent."
The screen cut to black.
Layla was struggling to catch her breath. Her hands shook as she grabbed her phone.She dialed Adrian's number.
It rang.
And rang.
Then—
"Layla?" His voice was quiet. Tense.
"I found something," she whispered. "Something about your father. A video. From mine."
Silence.
Then, calmly but sharply: "Don't say anything else. Don't forward it. Don't open it again. I'm coming to you."
She paused. "Why?"
"Because," Adrian said, his voice laced with something dangerous and certain, "this just became bigger than us."
He hung u
p.
Layla stared at the screen, breathless.
Outside, thunder rumbled.
And somewhere in the shadows, a war was beginning.