A footage popped up from the screen. The night of the gala replayed again, soundless but deafening. The clinking glasses, the smiles that had felt like knives, we watched it all.
Each frame was a shard of memory I didn't want to touch. I had seen myself smiling that night, unaware that half the room wanted Adrian and me destroyed.
Now in Adrian's strategy room buried beneath the estate, seeing the footage, I realized how fragile I had looked in my shimmering black gown. Fragile, yet dangerous. A weapon wrapped in silk, unaware of her own edge.
Adrian leaned forward, pausing a frame. "Here," he murmured. His voice slid through the dark, deep and deliberate. "The moment you left the terrace. Watch the man in gray by the piano."
I focused on the screen. The man moved subtly, almost imperceptibly lifting his wrist, a faint shimmer of light from a device, aimed briefly in my direction. My stomach coiled.
"Was he recording me?" I asked.
Adrian's expression didn't shift. "Not a simple recording. It's a signal. Someone was tracking your frequency."
"My frequency," I repeated slowly. "You mean—"
"Yes," he cut in. "Your psychic resonance. The same way I can read a thought echo, they can track your pulse through digital interference."
A chill rippled down my spine. I remembered the weight of the night, the champagne glass trembling slightly in my hand before I even realized it. I had thought it was just nerves. But maybe something else had already been touching my mind.
Adrian stood, running a hand through his hair, the movement taut with irritation. "Whoever it was, they knew what they were doing. They wanted to provoke a reaction from you—to trigger a psychic flare. You were smart not to engage."
I bit back a humorless laugh. "Smart? I almost crushed half the gala hall when that waiter dropped the wine tray."
His eyes flicked to me, sharp and unreadable. "And yet, you didn't. That control is why you're still standing here."
The words should have been a compliment. They felt like an assessment.
The room was silent except for the faint sound of the projector. Adrian's estate was all cold, steel, glass, quiet dominance. Everything about it reflected him: order wrapped around chaos.
"I want to go home," I said suddenly.
He didn't move. "No."
I turned to face him fully. "Excuse me?"
He met my gaze, steady and calm in a way that only made me angrier. "You're not safe there. Whoever tracked you at the gala will find your apartment in less than a day. They already know how to follow your signal. Staying here gives me time to find out who sent that interference."
I crossed my arms, tilting my head just slightly. "You mean staying here gives you time to monitor me?"
Something flickered behind his eyes. "Don't start this."
"I'm not starting anything," I said, though my voice was already low and sharp. "I just don't want to be caged, Adrian."
"You're not caged."
"I can't breathe in this place," I countered. "Everything here feels like control. Surveillance. I know you think it's protection, but it's not. It's confinement dressed in courtesy."
He exhaled, slow and measured, stepping closer. "You've been through enough to know the difference between danger and paranoia, Elena. I'm offering safety, not chains."
"And what if I don't want safety?" I asked, voice rising before I could stop it. "What if I just want space to think?"
The air between us stretched thin, like the moment before lightning touches ground.
Adrian's jaw tightened. He stepped closer again, until I could see the faint stubble along his chin, the exhaustion shadowing his eyes. "Thinking is dangerous for people like us," he said softly. "You know that."
His tone wasn't cruel. It was almost… tender. And that was worse.
"Maybe I need danger," I whispered.
He studied me like I was a puzzle he couldn't solve, and that realization, the fact that he was trying his best for me, made something twist in my chest.
"Elena," he said finally, voice low, almost coaxing. "If you walk out of here tonight, I won't be able to protect you. And whoever sent that signal will find you. You'll be alone."
I smiled faintly. "I've been alone longer than you've been rich."
He almost smiled back—almost. "And how has that worked out for you?"
It was a cruel thing to say, but he didn't mean it cruelly. That made it hurt more.
I looked away first. The screen behind him had gone black, but I could still see my reflection faintly, my eyes were colder than I remembered.
"You're right," I said finally. "But I still need to go."
He was silent for a long time. Then he turned off the monitor and faced me fully, stepping close enough that the air between us vibrated.
"Tell me the truth," he said quietly. "This isn't just about space. What are you hiding from me?"
The words hit too close. My breath caught.
I shook my head, trying to keep my expression neutral. "Not everything is about you, Adrian."
"Everything that concerns your safety is."
I laughed softly. "There it is, finally, the billionaire complex. You think money and power make you the center of every orbit."
He didn't flinch. "No. But you entered mine the moment you went to that gala. And I don't let anyone walk out of my orbit until I know what game they're playing."
I felt my heart kick against my ribs. The air between us thickened, electric. His voice was too calm, his presence too close.
"I'm not playing anything," I said, though even I heard the lie.
He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. "Then why won't you look at me when you say that?"
I forced my gaze up and instantly regretted it. His eyes weren't just looking; they were searching. Reading. I could almost feel his mind brushing mine, tentative, probing.
"Don't," I warned softly.
He stopped, but the damage was already done. I felt the edges of my thoughts hum with awareness. My pulse raced, not from fear, but something else.
Adrian's voice dropped an octave. "You're hiding something. I can feel it. It's not fear—it's something heavier."
"I said don't," I snapped, stepping back, breaking the invisible tether between us. "Stay out of my head."
His expression flickered with guilt, but he quickly masked it. "You know I don't mean to."
"That doesn't make it better."
We stood in silence for a long moment, neither willing to yield. Then he sighed, dragging a hand across the back of his neck. "Fine. I'll have a car take you back. But I'll station someone outside your building. Non-negotiable."
I hesitated. The thought of one of his operatives outside my apartment felt invasive, but I was too drained to argue. "Fine," I muttered.
His gaze lingered. "You'll call me if anything feels off?"
"I'll think about it."
"Elena."
I met his eyes again, letting him see just enough honesty to quiet him. "Yes. I'll call."
That seemed to appease him slightly. He nodded once, then turned toward the door. "Pack what you brought. I'll have the driver ready in five minutes."
When he left, the silence pressed in on me.
I exhaled shakily and pulled my phone from my pocket. The message was still there, waiting like a wound.
Unknown Number: They know what you are. The gala was only the beginning.
I'd received it during the meeting. I hadn't told him. I wasn't sure I could; he would just worry more.
Because beneath that single line had been another, smaller one—almost invisible until I turned up the screen brightness.
Your rebirth wasn't a gift, Elena. It was a debt.
I stared at the words now, heart thudding.
Whoever sent it knew too much.
A knock on the door startled me. Adrian's voice came through, low and composed. "Your car's ready."
I pocketed the phone quickly. "Coming," I said, keeping my tone light.
When I stepped out, he was waiting in the corridor, hands in his pockets, the faintest furrow between his brows. The kind of worry he'd never admit to.
"I still don't like this," he said as we walked.
"I know," I replied softly. "That's why I'm doing it."
He glanced sideways at me, something like amusement flashing briefly across his face. "You enjoy provoking me."
"Only because you make it so easy."
His lips curved. "You're going to regret saying that when I start taking it as a challenge."
My pulse quickened, though I kept my face calm. "Then maybe I already do."
The conversation died there, thick with tension neither of us dared name.
Outside, the night air hit cold and sharp. The city lights shimmered in the distance, Mondrovia's skyline stretched out like a million tiny promises that never quite delivered.
Adrian walked me to the car himself, silent the entire way. When he opened the door, I hesitated before getting in.
"Don't read me while I'm gone," I said quietly.
He smirked faintly. "Then stop thinking so loudly."
I rolled my eyes, but the corner of my mouth betrayed me with a small smile. "Goodnight, Adrian."
He held my gaze a moment longer than necessary. "Goodnight, Elena. Try not to disappear."
The door closed, cutting off the heat of his presence. The car pulled away, and I exhaled, sinking back into the seat.
As the estate vanished behind us, my phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number: You shouldn't have left him alone tonight.
My breath hitched. I looked out the window, at the endless stretch of night, the blur of streetlights and for the first time since my rebirth, I felt a tremor of something I hated to admit.
Fear.
But beneath it, tangled and undeniable, was another feeling entirely.
Longing.