The tension in the room was razor-sharp.
The golden-haired man took one step toward Elara.
"Viper… it's me. Don't you remember?"
Elara's pulse spiked. His voice… it tugged at something buried deep inside her, like a knife scraping at locked memories.
Before she could speak, Adrian moved.
Not rushed. Not dramatic.
Calm. Controlled. Deadly.
He stepped between them, hands in pockets, as if he had all the time in the world to deal with this intruder in his territory.
"You're standing too close," Adrian said quietly.
The man's jaw clenched. "I'm not scared of you, Velletto."
"You should be."
Adrian's eyes lowered to where the man's hand had brushed against the back of Elara's chair.
"Touch her again."
He said it slowly, voice like velvet soaked in poison.
"And I'll break your hand. Bone by bone."
Elara's breath caught.
He wasn't threatening him. He was making a promise.
The golden-haired man scoffed.
"You think you own her just because of a piece of paper?"
Adrian's lips curved — dark, calm, patient.
"No."
He looked directly at Elara as he said the next words.
"I own her because she signed my name."
Something shifted in the air.
Elara stood abruptly, needing space, breath shaky.
"Stop it. Both of you."
The golden-haired man looked at her, eyes softening with something that felt too close to pain.
"Elara… try to remember. They used to call you—"
She flinched and pressed a hand to her forehead, pain throbbing like a sudden storm.
Adrian grabbed the man by the collar before he could say more and slammed him against the wall — without anger — just firm, silent finality.
"You think I don't know who she was?" Adrian said softly, dangerously.
"The difference between you and me—" he leaned in, voice brushing the man's ear like a death sentence,
"—is that I don't need her past to claim her future."
Cold. Smooth. Absolute.
He let go.
The golden-haired man's eyes blazed with hatred. "This isn't over."
Adrian smirked slightly — a Prince acknowledging a challenge in his empire.
"I never said it was."
The man left, the elevator door closing with a sharp metallic echo.
Silence.
Elara stood there, heart pounding, watching Adrian wipe invisible dust from his sleeve.
"You're not surprised," she said quietly.
Adrian looked at her.
"About what?"
"About… that name he called me."
A pause.
Adrian approached slowly, his gaze unreadable.
"Elara," he said softly.
"You don't need to remember who you were."
He reached out — fingertips brushing just above her wrist — not touching, but close enough for her skin to burn with awareness.
"Because from now on… you belong only to me."
And as the elevator lights flickered in the reflection behind them…
A faint shadow of the masked assassin she once was flickered in her eyes.