Elara's POV
I couldn't sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Adrian's silhouette in his window. Watching. Waiting. Claiming me with just his presence.
At 3 AM, I gave up trying. I sat on my bedroom floor with my back against the locked door and pulled out my phone. My hands shook as I scrolled through my contacts.
Who could I call? Mom was downstairs crying. Dad was in his study, probably drinking. The lawyers had left hours ago. Vivienne was gone—back to whatever life she'd built before this nightmare.
And Adrian was across the hall.
I opened my messages and stared at Mira's last text from two days ago: Missing you! When are you visiting Paris again?
Before I could think too hard about it, I typed: I need help. Something's really wrong. Can you come to Silvercrest?
The reply came immediately, like she'd been awake too.
What happened? Are you okay?
My fingers hovered over the keyboard. How did I explain this? That my brother—not my brother—was obsessed with me? That my whole life was a lie? That I was trapped in a mansion with a man who'd spent seven years orchestrating my isolation?
I can't explain over text. Please. I need you.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Booking a flight now. I'll be there by noon. Send me the address. And Elara? Whatever's happening, we'll fix it. I promise.
I sent her the estate address, then buried my face in my knees and tried not to cry.
Across the hall, I heard Adrian's door open.
Footsteps in the hallway. Coming closer.
I held my breath as they stopped right outside my room.
The doorknob turned. Locked. Thank God I'd locked it.
Elara. Adrian's voice was soft through the door. I know you're awake. I can see the light under your door.
I didn't answer.
We need to talk about earlier. About what I said. I know it was a lot to process.
A lot to process? He'd confessed to manipulating my entire life and declared his obsessive love, and he thought it was just a lot to process?
I'm sleeping, I lied.
No, you're not. You're sitting against the door. You've been there for hours.
My blood went cold. How did he
I can hear you breathing, Adrian continued. And I know you, Elara. I know when you're scared, you sit on the floor with your back to something solid. You've done it since you were eight years old and had that nightmare about being lost.
The detail should have been sweet, proof that he knew me, cared about me. Instead, it felt like surveillance. Like he'd been cataloging my every habit, every fear, every vulnerable moment for years.
Go away, Adrian.
I will. But first, I need you to understand something. His voice dropped lower, more intimate. Everything I said tonight was true. I love you. I've always loved you. And now that the truth is out, I'm not going to hide it anymore.
What you feel isn't love. It's sick.
It's the most honest thing I've ever felt. A pause. Get some sleep, Elara. Tomorrow, we'll sit down with Mom and Dad and figure out our future. Together.
Our future. Like I had any say in it. Like I was part of his plan instead of his prisoner.
His footsteps retreated. His door closed.
I stayed frozen against my bedroom door until the sun rose.
At 7 AM, I crept downstairs. The house was silent, everyone still asleep or pretending to be. I needed coffee. Needed to think. Needed to figure out how to survive until Mira arrived.
The kitchen was empty. I started the coffee maker with shaking hands.
You look terrible.
I spun around. Marcus stood in the doorway, looking uncomfortable and guilty. Adrian's assistant. The man who'd shown me Jake's real resume yesterday, was it really only yesterday? It felt like a lifetime ago.
What are you doing here? I asked.
Adrian called me at 6 AM. Asked me to come in early for an urgent meeting. Marcus glanced around nervously. But I came to warn you first.
My stomach dropped. Warn me about what?
Adrian's planning something. He had me pull files last night—legal documents about guardianship, power of attorney, commitment papers for psychiatric evaluation.
Commitment papers? My voice rose. For who?
Marcus's expression was answer enough.
He's going to have me locked up? Horror flooded through me. He can't do that. I'm not crazy!
He's building a case that you're having a mental breakdown because of the baby swap news. That you're a danger to yourself and need 'protection.' Marcus pulled out his phone and showed me documents. He's getting doctors lined up, testimony from your parents about how 'fragile' you've been.
I grabbed the counter to steady myself. Adrian wasn't just obsessed. He was strategic. Methodical. He was going to have me declared mentally unfit so he could control me legally.
Why are you telling me this? I asked. You work for him.
I work for a paycheck. I don't work for a psychopath. Marcus looked at me with genuine sympathy. You need to leave. Today. Now. Before he can execute whatever plan he's building.
I have a friend coming at noon
That's too late. Adrian knows about your texts to Mira. He monitors your phone.
Of course he did. Of course.
Then what do I do?
Marcus pulled out a set of car keys. My car's parked two blocks away. Walk out the front door like you're going for your morning run, you do that sometimes, right? He'll expect it. Then keep walking, get in my car, and drive to the airport. I'll handle Adrian.
He'll fire you. Or worse.
Probably. Marcus pressed the keys into my palm. But I can't watch him do this to you. Not anymore. Go, Elara. Before it's too late.
I stared at the keys. This was it. My chance to escape.
Thank you, I whispered.
Don't thank me yet. Just run.
I ran upstairs, changed into running clothes with my hands shaking so badly I could barely zip my jacket. I grabbed my phone, my wallet, nothing else—nothing that would make Adrian suspicious.
I was halfway down the stairs when I heard voices in the kitchen.
Adrian's voice. And Marcus's.
appreciate your concern, Marcus, but my sister is perfectly fine.
She's not your sister, Adrian. That's the whole point.
A long, dangerous silence.
What are you implying?
I pressed myself against the wall, listening.
I'm saying that maybe you need to step back. Let Elara process everything without you hovering over her every move.
And I'm saying you're overstepping. Badly. Adrian's voice turned to ice. Clean out your desk. You're fired. Effective immediately.
Adrian
And if I find out you've been helping Elara plan anything stupid, like running away, I'll make sure you never work in this city again. Try me.
Footsteps. Marcus was leaving, and I'd lost my escape route.
I turned to run back upstairs, but a hand caught my wrist.
I hadn't heard Adrian leave the kitchen. Hadn't heard him come up behind me.
Going somewhere? he asked pleasantly.
He was still in pajama pants and a t-shirt, looking casual and domestic. But his grip on my wrist was steel.
Morning run, I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
In your running clothes. With your phone and wallet. But no headphones. No water bottle. His eyes scanned me like a lie detector. Funny. You never run without music.
I tried to pull away. He held tight.
Marcus gave you his car keys, didn't he? Adrian's other hand went to my jacket pocket and pulled out the keys. I was wondering when he'd make his move. He's always had a soft spot for you.
Let me go.
No. Adrian pocketed the keys. We're going to go back upstairs. You're going to take a shower and change. And then we're going to have breakfast as a family and discuss your future. Our future.
I'm not going anywhere with you!
Yes, Adrian said calmly, you are.
He started pulling me toward the stairs. I dug my heels in, but he was stronger. So much stronger.
Help! I screamed. Someone help me!
Adrian's hand clamped over my mouth. Shh. You'll wake Mom and Dad. They've had a hard enough night.
I bit his palm. Hard.
He didn't even flinch. Just looked at me with something like disappointment.
That hurt, Elara. I'm trying to protect you, and you're fighting me at every turn.
I tried to scream again, but his hand was immovable.
Then, miracle of miracles, the doorbell rang.
Adrian froze. We're not expecting anyone.
The doorbell rang again. Insistent. Urgent.
A voice called through the door: Elara? It's Mira! Your phone's GPS said you were home. Open up!
Mira. She'd come early. She'd tracked my phone.
Adrian's face darkened. Your friend from Paris.
Let me go, I said against his palm. Or I'll scream the second you move your hand, and she'll call the police.
For a long moment, we stood frozen in the hallway. Adrian's hand over my mouth. His eyes boring into mine with frightening intensity.
Then, slowly, he released me.
Answer the door, he said quietly. But Elara? If you tell her anything, if you try to leave with her, I'll make sure she regrets ever setting foot in Silvercrest. Do you understand?
I understood perfectly.
Adrian was done playing the protective brother.
And I was running out of time.