Adam's forehead creased the moment he saw the unregistered number flashing on the screen of his phone.
No one should have his number except his wife and close friends.
Business went through his executive assistant. Personal matters, through Layla. No one ever called him directly unless it was urgent—or a mistake.
He nearly let it ring out.
And yet, something—some tightening in his chest—made him answer.
"Hello?" he said, curt and distant.
Silence.
Just the soft static of breath, too tentative to cross the line. He was about to hang up when—
"Adam."
His entire body stilled.
A voice he hadn't heard in years—but one that used to live in his bones.
"Natalia."
Her name slipped from his lips before he could stop it. It felt like someone had pressed a thumb to an old wound—one that never really healed, only scabbed over in silence.
"I wasn't sure if you'd still have the same number," she said softly, voice uncertain. "I'm sorry if I—if this is inappropriate."
He said nothing.
