The morning after the disastrous dinner lingered in Elena's mind like a haunting storm. Every word, every cold glance from Adrian, replayed in her thoughts. She had barely slept; her pillow was damp with tears she refused to shed in front of anyone. Yet, as sunlight streamed into the mansion, Elena knew she had no luxury of hiding—she had to face him again.
The heavy silence of the breakfast table was unbearable. Adrian sat opposite her, scrolling through his phone, his expression unreadable. The clinking of her spoon against the china plate echoed too loudly in her ears.
Finally, he spoke without looking up.
"You embarrassed me last night." His voice was like ice—controlled but cutting.
Her hand trembled as she set her spoon down. "I… I didn't mean to—"
"You never mean to, do you?" His eyes lifted then, sharp and cold. "But somehow you always manage to make me regret this arrangement."
Her chest tightened. "You regret marrying me?"
His silence was the cruelest answer.
Elena swallowed hard. Her heart screamed at her to fight, to demand why he insisted on treating her as if she were nothing. But her lips refused to move. She lowered her gaze, hiding the sheen of tears.
Adrian returned to his phone, dismissing her presence as though she were invisible. The silence between them was not new—but that morning, it weighed more heavily than ever before.
Later that day, Elena found herself wandering into the library, one of the few sanctuaries in the vast mansion. She touched the spines of books absentmindedly, her mind a whirlwind. She had agreed to this marriage out of duty, out of sacrifice for her family, but she had not expected to feel so utterly unwanted.
The sound of footsteps broke her thoughts. She turned and froze—Adrian stood at the doorway, his gaze unreadable.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone clipped.
"Reading," she said softly. "Trying to find a little peace."
His jaw clenched, as though the idea of her finding peace was offensive. He stepped inside, his presence filling the room. "Peace? You think you deserve peace after what you've done?"
Her brows furrowed. "What have I done, Adrian? Tell me! Because all I see is a man who married me to settle a score and now can't stand to look at me."
Her voice cracked, the raw honesty surprising even herself.
For the first time in weeks, his façade cracked. His eyes darkened with something deeper—pain, maybe anger, maybe both. He closed the distance between them, stopping just inches away.
"You think I wanted this?" His words were a low growl. "You think I chose you? Every time I see you, Elena, I'm reminded of everything I lost. Of everything that was taken from me."
Her heart pounded. "Then why punish me? I had no choice in this either!"
Their breaths mingled in the heated silence. For a second, Elena thought she saw something soften in his gaze. But then, like a storm shutting itself off, his mask returned.
"Stay out of my way," he muttered, turning on his heel.
She watched him leave, her heart splintering further.
That night, Elena couldn't sleep again. She sat by the window, watching the city lights flicker in the distance. Every part of her wanted to scream, to break free, but she knew she was trapped—by duty, by circumstance, by the invisible chains of a loveless marriage.
Suddenly, a soft knock at her door startled her. She opened it cautiously, expecting a maid. But it was Adrian.
Her heart leapt in confusion. "Adrian?"
He looked restless, his hair slightly disheveled, his usual composure shaken. For a moment, he didn't speak, just stared at her as though searching for words.
"I couldn't sleep," he admitted finally, his voice quieter than she had ever heard it.
Her lips parted, but no words came. He stepped inside without waiting for her invitation, walking to the window where she had been sitting moments before.
"The city looks so different at night," he murmured. "Cold. Empty. Just like this house."
Elena swallowed, her throat tight. "It doesn't have to be empty, Adrian."
He turned sharply, his gaze locking onto hers. The intensity made her breath hitch. For the first time, she saw vulnerability flicker across his face, quickly hidden but real.
"Don't," he said roughly. "Don't say things you don't mean."
"But I do mean it," she whispered, her courage surprising her. "I never asked for this marriage, but I'm here. And despite everything… I don't want to be your enemy."
The silence stretched between them, thick with tension. Then, almost imperceptibly, Adrian's shoulders relaxed. He stepped closer, his hand twitching as though he wanted to reach for her but didn't dare.
"Elena…" he began, his voice low, conflicted. But before he could finish, his phone rang, shattering the fragile moment.
He glanced at the screen and his expression hardened. Without another word, he turned and left the room, answering the call as he walked away.
Elena stood frozen, her chest aching. She had almost seen him—really seen him—but once again, he had slipped away.
The next morning, rumors swirled within the mansion. The staff whispered, their eyes darting toward Elena whenever they thought she wasn't looking. Something was happening—something Adrian wasn't telling her.
She found him in his study, his expression tense as he ended a phone call.
"What's going on?" she asked quietly.
He looked up, startled by her sudden boldness. For a moment, he hesitated, then sighed. "There are people who would rather see me fail than succeed. Last night's call… was a reminder of that."
Her brows knit in worry. "Are you in danger?"
He smirked bitterly. "Danger is the price of power."
She stepped closer, her heart aching at the wall he kept building between them. "You don't have to face it alone."
His gaze softened ever so slightly. "And what makes you think I need you, Elena?"
Her lips trembled, but she didn't back down. "Because for all your coldness, Adrian, I see the man beneath it. You're not as untouchable as you pretend to be."
The silence that followed was heavy, electric. Adrian stared at her as though torn between pushing her away and pulling her closer. His hand lifted slowly, almost reaching for hers—then he dropped it, retreating once again into the safety of his distance.
"Stay out of it," he said firmly, though his voice betrayed the conflict inside him.
Elena bit her lip, but she said nothing more. She knew she was treading on fragile ground—but for the first time, she had glimpsed something deeper within Adrian. A fragile heartbeat beneath the armor.
And she silently vowed that no matter how many walls he built, she would find a way to reach him.