Adrian's POV
I couldn't sleep.
I didn't know when it started, this creeping unease that clawed at my chest and kept me pacing the study in the penthouse, but it had been hours. Hours of staring out at the city below, watching cars move like ants and feeling utterly paralyzed at the same time.
I should have felt relief, I should have felt freedom. I had signed the papers. She was gone, it was over, clean, done.
And yet, my chest ached. My hands shook, my stomach twisted, and every time I thought of her Elara Quinn I felt hollow and raw, like she had carved out a part of me I didn't know existed.
I remembered the table, the papers, the way she had signed them without a word, without crying, without begging. Calm, controlled, stronger than I realized.
I had expected her to fight. Expected her to scream, to throw something, to hate me. She hadn't. She had just signed, packed her bag, and walked out.
And I had let her go.
The thought made me sick.
I poured a glass of whiskey, smooth, sharp, bitter, and downed it in one long swallow. It didn't help. Never did. The ache was still there. The hollow, the panic, the storm inside me.
I shouldn't care. I shouldn't. I told myself I didn't.
But I did.
I couldn't stop thinking about her.
Sophia's voice broke through the fog. "You've been pacing for hours. You're going to give yourself a heart attack."
I shook my head. "I'm fine," I muttered. I didn't want to admit it. Couldn't admit it. Not to her, not to anyone.
She didn't believe me. She never did. "You're not," she said. "You're thinking about her, aren't you?"
I froze. For a split second, I almost wanted to lash out, to yell that she didn't understand. But she did. She always did.
"I… I don't know what you mean," I said finally, voice tight.
Her eyes narrowed, but her expression softened. "You're lying to yourself."
I looked away. I didn't want her to see the truth. The terrifying, undeniable truth. I couldn't stop thinking about her. Couldn't stop imagining her alone. Couldn't stop imagining… what she carried inside her.
My child.
The thought hit me like a fist to the gut. My stomach twisted violently, my chest felt tight, my hands clenched into fists.
I shouldn't care. I shouldn't. She's gone. She's not mine anymore.
And yet, my mind refused to let go.
She had always had this effect on me. Quiet, unassuming, careful. The perfect contract wife. And yet… the perfect one to get under my skin without me even realizing it.
I paced again. Back and forth, back and forth, unable to focus. The whiskey in my system only made it worse. My thoughts spun faster and faster, circling, crashing, twisting.
I made a mistake. A huge mistake.
I stopped in front of the window, staring down at the streets below. Empty, busy. Nothing mattered down there, nothing mattered anywhere. Except her!Except her!Except her!
Sophia stepped closer. "You need to eat. Drink something. You're losing yourself in this."
I pulled back. "Don't touch me."
She didn't flinch. She never did. "You're shaking," she said softly. "And I don't like seeing you like this."
Her words pierced me. She was right. I was shaking. Out of control, helpless, panicked.
I clenched my teeth. "I'm fine," I said again, louder this time.
"You're not." She crossed her arms, leaning against the desk. "And you know it."
I didn't answer. I couldn't. Every part of me wanted to admit it, to confess that I had been wrong. That I had let her go. That I had already lost her. That she carried my child.
But the words wouldn't come out. I couldn't.
I poured another drink. Watched the liquid swirl, thinking about her. About her calm face, the way she had looked at me the night she signed the papers, the strength in her eyes.
I destroyed her.
And yet, I felt anger. Anger at her for leaving me like that, anger at myself for letting her go, anger at everything I couldn't control.
I drank more, too much that my thoughts blurred. The city outside became a smear of lights. My mind jumped from one thought to another, impossible to hold onto anything solid.
I remembered the night six weeks ago. The smell of her perfume. The way she had moved around the kitchen, so quiet, so careful, so ordinary. I had barely noticed her. I hadn't cared. And now… now she was gone. And she was carrying my child.
My hands shook. I slammed the glass down on the counter, spilling whiskey everywhere.
"Damn it!" I shouted.
Sophia flinched. "Adrian!"
I didn't notice. I was on my knees, my head in my hands, feeling helpless and furious at the same time.
I can't fix this. I can't fix her. I can't fix me.
I wanted to call her, wanted to run to her, wanted to disappear all at once.
But I couldn't.
Because I knew.
I knew I had made a mistake.
A huge mistake.
And it was too late.
The hours passed slowly. I didn't move from the study. I didn't sleep. I didn't eat. I didn't care. I just paced, drank, thought, cursed myself, cursed her, cursed the world.
Sophia watched quietly. Occasionally, she would speak. "You're obsessed," she said once. "You're out of control. You need to stop."
I laughed bitterly. "Obsessed? Maybe. But it doesn't matter. She's gone."
"No, she's not," Sophia said softly. "Not if she's carrying your child."
I froze. My stomach twisted again. Panic clawed at me. That one statement made everything real, everything sharp, everything impossible to ignore.
My fists clenched. My teeth ground together. "I can't...." I started, voice trembling.
"You can't what?" she asked, calm but firm.
I shook my head. "I can't fix it. I can't stop it. I can't go back."
"You have to," she said.
I didn't respond. I couldn't. Every thought in my head was tangled, chaotic, impossible to sort through. Regret, fear, anger, desire, confusion.
All of it collided inside me, twisting into a knot I didn't know how to untangle.
By the time dawn broke, I was exhausted but awake, pacing again. The shadows in the penthouse stretched long and threatening. I felt trapped in them, suffocating, panicking, unable to escape the storm inside me.
I poured another drink, staring at the divorce papers in the drawer. Clean. Done. Over.
And yet… nothing was clean. Nothing was over.
I could feel regret poisoning me, creeping into every thought. Every memory of her. Every moment I had wasted, every choice I had made.
I had lost her.
I might lose her completely.
And worst of all, I knew it.
I couldn't stop thinking about her. About what she looked like now. About what she was doing. About the life she carried inside her.
My child.
The thought made my chest tighten. Made my stomach twist. Made my entire body tremble.
I hated it. I hated the chaos. I hated the helplessness. I hated the fire in my chest that wouldn't go out.
I hated myself for feeling it.
By mid-morning, I was still pacing. Still thinking. Still terrified of what I had done.
I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't focus. I couldn't breathe properly.
All I could do was think about her. About Elara. About the mistake I had made.
The one I couldn't undo.