Elora avoided Adam for two days.
She stayed in her room, went out only when necessary, and made sure Lyra—not Adam—was the one she spoke to. But avoidance didn't mean peace.
Because Adam was everywhere.
His presence lingered in the halls, in the air, in the way the mansion felt too quiet without his voice. Every time she thought she had escaped him, she would feel it—that sharp awareness—like he was watching her even when he wasn't there.
And Adam?
Adam was losing control.
Adam sat in the conference room, executives lined up on both sides of the long table. The room was cold, the atmosphere tense.
"Sir, about the Spain expansion—" one man began.
Adam's pen snapped in half.
Everyone froze.
"Repeat that," Adam said flatly.
The man swallowed. "The—uh—Spain expansion—"
Adam stood abruptly, chair scraping against the floor. "Get out."
"But sir—"
"I said get out."
The room emptied within seconds.
Brian stayed behind.
"She's still meeting Mike," Brian said carefully.
Adam closed his eyes.
"You should stop telling me things that make me want to destroy my own company."
Brian hesitated. "Sir… you're not angry because of Mike."
Adam looked at him.
"You're angry because she's learning how to live without you."
That was when Adam smashed his fist against the table.
Elora was in the garden that evening.
It was the only place where she felt free.
She sat on the stone bench, her hair loose, the sunset painting her skin gold. For once, she wasn't thinking about Adam. She was thinking about herself—about what she wanted.
"Running away again?"
She stiffened.
Adam.
"I live here," she said without turning. "I'm not running."
He stood behind her, close enough that she could feel his warmth.
"You didn't come to dinner," he said.
"I wasn't hungry."
"You lie terribly."
She stood and turned to face him. "Then stop asking questions you don't want answers to."
His eyes darkened.
"I don't want to watch you fall in love with someone else," he said quietly.
Her heart skipped.
"And I don't want to be someone's secret," she replied.
The silence stretched.
Adam reached out—then stopped himself.
That restraint broke something in her.
She stepped closer.
"So what are we doing, Adam?" she whispered.
His hand came up, cupping her face before his mind could stop him.
Elora gasped softly.
"You shouldn't look at me like that," he said hoarsely.
"Then don't touch me like this."
He leaned down.
Slowly.
As if giving her time to pull away.
She didn't.
Their lips met.
It wasn't rough.
It wasn't rushed.
It was slow, aching, filled with years of things unsaid.
Elora's fingers clutched his shirt.
Adam kissed her like he was afraid she would disappear.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers.
"This is wrong," he breathed.
She smiled sadly. "Then why does it feel like coming home?"
He kissed her again.
Deeper this time.
When they finally separated, Adam stepped back suddenly—as if burned.
"No," he said firmly. "We stop here."
She stared at him. "Adam—"
"I won't destroy you," he said. "Even if it kills me."
And then he walked away.
Sophia stood at the balcony above.
She had seen everything.
The closeness.
The kiss.
The way Adam looked at Elora like she was the only thing keeping him alive.
Her smile didn't reach her eyes.
"So that's it," she murmured.
That night, Sophia made a phone call.
"It's time," she said softly. "She's becoming a problem."
The next day, Mike took Elora's hands in his.
"I want to marry you," he said seriously. "Soon."
Her heart raced.
"I don't want to lose you to him," Mike added. "Whatever he is to you."
She forced a smile. "I won't leave."
But even as she said it, Adam's kiss burned in her memory.
Adam woke up sweating.
His parents' faces haunted him again.
The fire.
The screams.
Sophia's voice—young, trembling—calling his name.
He sat up sharply.
"What do you know?" he whispered into the darkness.
For the first time, Adam wondered if the past had never really been buried.
And if Elora was walking straight into danger.