The mansion had never felt this crowded.
Adam sat at the head of the long dining table, his posture straight, his expression unreadable. Sophia sat beside him, elegant and composed, her hand resting lightly on his arm as if she belonged there.
Across the table, Elora lowered her gaze to her plate.
She could feel it.
Every movement.
Every breath.
Every time Adam's eyes flickered toward her before forcing themselves away.
Sophia noticed it too.
"Elora," Sophia said warmly, smiling. "You barely touched your food. Are you not feeling well?"
Elora looked up slowly. "I'm fine."
Adam's fingers tightened around his fork.
Sophia tilted her head. "You're so thin. Adam worries too much about you, you know."
Adam's jaw hardened.
"That's unnecessary," he said curtly.
Sophia laughed lightly. "I'm just saying. You're practically my little sister now."
The word sister echoed in Elora's ears.
She pushed her chair back gently. "I'm done."
Adam stood immediately. "Lyra—"
"I'll take her plate," Lyra said quietly, watching the two with knowing eyes.
Elora walked away without another glance.
Adam stayed frozen for a moment too long.
Sophia noticed.
Elora lay awake that night.
She stared at the ceiling, listening to the quiet hum of the mansion. Somewhere down the hall, a door opened. Footsteps passed.
She knew those footsteps.
Adam's.
Her heart betrayed her immediately.
She sat up.
The doorknob turned.
Adam stood there, his hand still on the handle, his expression dark.
"You didn't eat," he said.
"You didn't come to my graduation," she replied.
Silence.
"You shouldn't provoke Sophia," he said finally.
"You shouldn't marry someone you don't love."
His eyes snapped to hers.
"You don't know what you're talking about.
Elora smiled faintly. "Then why are you here instead of with your wife?"
That was the wrong question.
Adam stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
"You think I don't see it?" he said quietly. "The way men look at you. The way you let them."
"I'm engaged," she shot back. "Just like you."
His laugh was sharp and humorless. "Mike is nothing like me."
"Because he doesn't cage me?"
Adam's hand pressed against the door.
"You don't understand what you do to me," he said.
She stood.
Then she walked past him.
He didn't stop her.
That hurt more than if he had.
Mike arrived in Spain two days later.
Elora didn't tell Adam.
She met Mike in a café near the university, smiling genuinely for the first time in days. Mike looked relieved, happy, hopeful.
"I missed you," he said.
She nodded. "Me too."
But even as she said it, she felt it — the invisible pull, the chain she couldn't break.
Adam found out anyway.
Brian always told him everything.
That night, Adam sat alone in his study, lights off, a glass untouched beside him.
"She met him," Brian said carefully.
Adam didn't respond.
"They were smiling," Brian added.
The glass shattered in Adam's hand.
Sophia was not foolish.
She noticed Adam's sleepless nights.
His sudden absences.
The way his anger flared whenever Elora's name was mentioned.
One afternoon, she approached Elora with a gentle smile.
"You know," Sophia said casually, "Adam wasn't always like this."
Elora tensed. "Like what?"
"Cold. Controlled. Obsessed with order."
Elora looked up sharply.
Sophia continued, "After his parents died, something broke in him. He never talks about it."
Elora's chest tightened.
"How did they die?" she asked.
Sophia paused. Just for a second.
"…An accident," she said.
But her eyes told a different story.
That night, Adam confronted Elora.
"You met him," he said.
"Yes."
"You smiled."
"Yes."
His voice dropped. "Do you love him?"
Elora met his gaze, steady. "Do you love your wife?"
The silence that followed was loud.
Adam took a step closer.
Then another.
"You're playing a dangerous game," he said.
"So are you."
For the first time, Adam looked afraid.