The café was quieter than usual, the kind of place where the hum of conversation was low enough to feel like background music. Adrian sat in the farthest corner booth, his back against the wall, his eyes fixed on the door. A single black coffee sat before him, steam rising in lazy spirals he barely noticed. His fingers tapped against the cup. He hated being here, hated agreeing to this, but curiosity—and something darker he couldn't name—had dragged him out of the house.
The door opened, and Sophie walked in. For a moment, time shifted. She always knew how to command a room without trying. Heads turned the way they always did, men glancing, women narrowing their eyes. She wore a fitted black skirt that hugged her hips, paired with a cream blouse that dipped low enough to be dangerous. Her lips were painted a bold shade, tempting in daylight, distracting in ways he didn't want to admit. Adrian's jaw flexed as his eyes trailed over her before he forced himself to look away.
Behave, he warned himself.
She spotted him instantly and smiled like she'd been expecting him to be exactly where he was. Crossing the café with an easy grace, she slid into the booth across from him.
"Adrian," she said smoothly.
"Sophie," he replied, his voice flat, controlled.
For a moment, silence stretched between them, heavy but not uncomfortable—for her, at least. She reached for the menu, waved down the waiter, and ordered a cup of tea. Her movements were casual, but her eyes never left him.
"You can relax," she said after a beat, her tone playful, but edged with something sharper. "It's not an ambush. I just wanted to talk."
He gave a tight nod, saying nothing. He wasn't here to be charmed.
Her tea arrived quickly, and she stirred it once before lifting it to her lips. She sipped delicately, then leaned back, settling into her chair with an ease that irritated him. She was too calm. Too confident.
"You know," she began softly, almost conversationally, "I hear things."
His brow furrowed slightly. "What things?"
Sophie's gaze was steady, piercing in its calmness. "People talk. Even when they pretend not to. And sometimes, I just happen to overhear." She let the words dangle, teasing, before continuing. "Things about you. About Elena. About… your marriage."
His grip tightened around his cup. "What are you getting at?"
She tilted her head, as though choosing her words carefully. "They say Elena is… the empire. The brand. The name. And you—" she paused, her lips curving faintly, "—you're just the shadow standing beside her."
Adrian froze. The words landed like a blade, sharp and precise. Sophie pretended not to notice the flicker of pain in his eyes, only sipped her tea again, calm as ever.
"Don't look at me like that," she added, almost innocently. "It's not me saying it. It's what's out there. I've heard it at shoots, at events, whispered in corners where they thought no one was listening. That if not for Elena, you'd be nothing more than… just another man." His jaw clenched. His chest tightened with something ugly—anger, shame, doubt, he couldn't tell. "You're lying," he bit out.
"I don't lie, Adrian." Her tone softened, but her eyes gleamed. "They say you follow her. That you ride her success. That your name is just… an accessory attached to hers."
The words clawed at him, digging into places he didn't want touched. He had always stood beside Elena, proud of her, proud to be her husband. But deep down, in his darkest moments, hadn't he wondered if the world saw him as less? If the whispers were true?
His fingers trembled against the coffee cup. He slammed it down on the table, liquid spilling over the rim, dark stains spreading on the wood. Heads turned in the café, but he didn't care.
"Enough," he snapped, his voice low but filled with fury.
But Sophie didn't flinch. If anything, she leaned in closer, lowering her voice like she was sharing a secret. "I'm telling you this because you deserve to know. You don't deserve to be treated like a footnote in your own life. You're stronger than they think, Adrian. Smarter, Bigger. But they'll never see it while Elena stands in front of you. She blocks the view."
His breathing grew heavier. The words repeated in his mind like an echo: footnote, accessory, shadow.
He pushed back his chair suddenly, the sound of wood scraping against tile screeching through the café. His glare was molten, his voice shaking with anger. "Don't you ever speak about me like that again."
And without waiting for her response, he turned and stormed out, his footsteps heavy, fury burning under his skin like fire he couldn't put out.
Inside the café, Sophie stayed seated, calm as ever. She lifted her tea cup, swirling the liquid slowly before taking another sip. Only then did her lips curve into a smile.
Perfect.
His anger wasn't rejection—it was proof. Proof that her words had landed exactly where she wanted them to. She had pierced the pride of a man who hated being underestimated, and now those doubts would grow inside him like weeds. He would tell himself he despised her for saying it, but the truth was, he would think about it long after he left this place.
Adrian was proud, yes. But pride had a twin—envy. And she had just fed both.
Soon, he would start seeing Elena's success as a chain around his neck instead of a crown they wore together. Soon, he would look at Sophie not as the enemy but as the only one bold enough to tell him the truth.
She set her cup down, still smiling to herself.
"To Elena's shadow," she whispered under her breath, raising her tea in a mock toast to the empty chair where Adrian had sat.
The plan was working, The cracks had begun to show.
And Adrian, whether he knew it yet or not, was already hers.