The ride home from the gala was unusually quiet. The city lights flickered through the tinted windows, washing over Lena's face in fleeting patterns of gold and shadow. She kept her hands folded in her lap, still replaying the night in her mind—the humiliation, the dance, the words she had dared to throw back at Clara.
For once, she didn't feel small. She felt… alive.
Adrian, as always, sat beside her in composed silence. His posture relaxed, his gaze fixed out the window. Yet Lena sensed he wasn't as detached as he looked. There was a faint tension in the line of his jaw, the kind he carried when something gnawed at his thoughts.
Finally, he broke the silence.
"You surprised me tonight."
Lena blinked. "In a bad way?"
His eyes turned to her, sharp but unreadable. "Not necessarily."
She let out a soft laugh, trying to mask her nerves. "That's the closest thing to a compliment I've heard from you."
Adrian's lips curved, just barely, as if he hadn't meant for the smile to slip through. He didn't respond, but the silence between them shifted—less distant, almost… warm.
When they arrived at the penthouse, Adrian held the door open as she stepped inside. For a brief second, their eyes met. Something unspoken lingered there, a recognition that hadn't been there before.
"Goodnight, Lena," he said simply, his voice lower than usual.
"Goodnight," she replied, her heart thudding strangely in her chest.
Later, as Lena lay in bed staring at the ceiling, she realized she no longer felt like a shadow in Adrian's world. Tonight, she had taken up space, even if just a little.
And Adrian had noticed.
But across the city, in a glittering penthouse of her own, Clara stood at her balcony, the night wind tugging at her silk robe. Her wineglass sat untouched on the table.
Lena's words still echoed in her head.
It was the first time anyone had ever thrown them back at her.
Her lips curved into a cold smile. "So the little mouse has teeth," she murmured.
Fine. If Lena wanted to play, Clara would make sure she regretted it.