Adrian Vale wasn't a man easily shaken.
He was used to power, to whispers that stopped when he walked into a room, to women who bent over backwards to catch his fleeting attention. But tonight, something unnerving crawled under his skin.
Elena Cruz.
She shouldn't matter. She never had before. In fact, she had always been the quiet shadow in Bianca's orbit—soft, overlooked, insignificant. Yet the woman standing before him now carried herself with a kind of lethal grace that made it impossible to look away.
The crimson gown, the sharp eyes, the way her words sliced through Bianca's pretenses like a blade—none of it matched the Elena he remembered.
And that was the problem.
Because he was staring at her like she was a puzzle he needed to solve.
Elena felt his gaze burning against her skin long after she'd walked away from him. She didn't give him the satisfaction of looking back. Not yet. Revenge demanded patience, and she wasn't about to waste years of rebirth on a careless move.
But when she caught Adrian alone later—out on the balcony, his tie loosened, glass in hand, the city lights painting him like a king surveying his empire—she couldn't resist.
"You're glaring at the skyline as though it wronged you," she teased softly, stepping into the night air.
His head turned, sharp, guarded. "And you keep appearing at the wrong places, Elena."
"Wrong places?" she arched a brow, her lips curving into a smile. "Or the right ones?"
For the briefest moment, silence stretched between them. Adrian's gaze lingered—longer than it should have. His jaw flexed, and he swallowed as though fighting off words he had no business saying.
Then he turned away, shutting himself back into the fortress he always carried. "Careful, Elena. Playing with fire has consequences."
She stepped closer, heels clicking against the marble. "So does underestimating it."
Adrian's grip on his glass tightened. He shouldn't want her near. He shouldn't feel the heat of her presence seep into his veins. But damn it, he did.
And that unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
Inside, Bianca watched from the doorway, jealousy blazing like wildfire. Her mother's hand gripped her arm, nails digging into skin.
"Patience, Bianca," Camila hissed. "Men like Adrian Vale don't fall for women like Elena. He's only… curious. Curiosity fades. We'll make sure of it."
But Bianca wasn't patient. And Adrian's lingering stare at Elena was enough to spark a dangerous seed of hatred she wouldn't let die.
Elena leaned against the balcony, her glass catching the moonlight. She didn't need his affection—she only needed his attention. Affection had destroyed her once. This time, it would destroy him.
Yet when Adrian's gaze flickered to her lips and quickly away, her chest tightened with something she hated—something she swore she buried with her old self.
Attraction.
She exhaled slowly, covering it with a sly smile. Control yourself, Elena. He may be magnetic, but he's also poison. Poison you'll use before discarding.
Tonight, Adrian Vale saw her differently. And that was exactly what she wanted.