bChapter /bb144 /b

ADRIAN’S POV

I rushed back into the living room, the remote nearly slipping from my grip as I turned up the volume on the TV. My eyes remained glued to bthe /bscreen, scanning every word the news anchor said, desperate to catch something–anything–about survivors or casualties.

“Emergency services arrived at the scene within minutes, but the fire had already engulfed the entire structure. The source of the fire remains unknown the reporter stated, her voice calm but heavy.

I leaned forward, holding my breath. But unfortunately, they didn’t mention if they found anyone, I felt my stomach twist into a knot.

That was it? No names? Had she mentioned it earlier, before I turned up the volume? Had I missed the most important detail? A fatality. My mind reeled with possibilities, but the worst–case scenario clung to me like a noose tightening with each passing second.

Dora.

She had been watching the broadcast from the

ginning. She must’ve heard everything.

I dropped the remote on the couch, practically sprinting up the stairs to my bedroom. My heart pounded in my chest. My breath caught as I swung the door open, my eyes sweeping the room.

Dora stepped out of the bathroom just then, drying her hands with a towel. She looked startled by my sudden appearance.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, eyebrows raised in concern.

“Yes,” I said sharply, walking closer. “You were watching the news before I got home. Did they mention if there were any bodies found in the house bfire/bb? /bWere there any survivors?”

She blinked at me, her gaze drifting momentarily to the floor like she had zoned out. Her silence felt too long.

“Dora,” I said again, snapping my fingers to get her attention. “Did you hear what I said?b” /b

She finally looked up, nodding slowly. “Yes… Yes, I heard you. Sorry, I was just thinking.” She paused, folding the towel in her hand. “Well, I wasn’t fully paying attention, but I did catch them saying that two bodies were found inside the house. They were… burned beyond recognition.”

odies.

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I took a step back, needing air. My mind swirled.

“Did they identify the bodies?” I asked, my voice strained.

She shook her head. “No. But from what the reporter said, the investigators believe the victims were a man and a woman. That’s all they could determine

for now.”

A man and a woman. My breath stilled. Could it be…b? /b

I didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t. But the thought had already lodged itself deep in my chest. My hands moved on their own bas /bbI /bpulled bout /bbmy /bphone

and dialed Olivia’s number.

Ringing.

Then silence.

“Switched off,” I whispered to myself as realit

mmed into me like ba /bfreight train.

My hand trembled as I lowered the phone. No answer. No btrace/b. No sign of life. Had that really been thest time I saw herb? /b

I staggered to the bed and sat down heavily, the weight of what I might have just lost pressing on my shoulders like boulders. bMy /bbbreath /bbcame /bbin /bbshort /bgasps, and I didn’t know–why my chest ached so badly, why my thoughts were spiraling into despair.

b1/3 /b

bShe /bdidn’t deserve this, Olivia never wronged me, if anything, she had been a victim in all this. And stillb, /bI used her as a pawn, manipted her emotion. and forced her into my twisted game of revenge.

I had promised myself I wouldn’t feel anything. That I wouldn’t get attached. That it was all just strategy.

So why now… did it feel like someone had just ripped my heart out of my chest? Why did it feel like I’d just lost the only person who ever btrily /bmattered)

My hand went up to my chest, gripping tightly as if holding myself together could somehow stop the ache from spreading. It didn’t. I squeezed harder. my fingers digging into my shirt, trying to make sense of the pain hammering inside my chest. Just when I thought I had reached my breaking bpoint/bb, /bI feft it–warm, silent tears rushing down my cheeks like a flood I didn’t know I was holding back.

“Babe, are you crying?” Dora’s voice was soft, cautious. She walked toward me, hesitated for a moment, then sat beside me on the edge of the bed. bI /bbfelt /bher handnd gently on my shoulder.

I didn’t answer her. Instead, I wiped my face with the back of my hand, and when I looked down, the wet trail of a tear glistened against my skin. I stared at it in disbelief. I was crying. For her.

It didn’t make sense. We weren’t even that close. Not really. But in the little time we spent talking, I saw her for who she truly was–kind, patient, even

when she had every reason not to be. She didn’t deserve what I put her through.

The truth hit me like a punch in the gut. All this time, I was blinded by hate–by years of anger and a desperate need for revenge. And I took all of that out on Olivia. I made her the target of my pain, used her as a scapegoat for something she had absolutely nothing to do with.

She was adopted. She didn’t even share a drop of blood with the Graysons. She wasn’t part of the lies that ruined my life. But I punished her anyway.b! /bpunished her for simply existing in a world I couldn’t control.

I never even got the chance to say I was sorry.

I blinked, trying to stop the tearsb, /bbut they wouldn’t stop. They just kepting, heavier now, burning hot against my skin. My chest felt like bit /bbwas /bbcaving /bin. Like someone was standing on top of me, suffocating me slowly. The worst part? I knew this pain was my own doing.

“Maybe if I had treated her better…” I whispered to myself, the words barely making it past my lips, “Maybe she wouldn’t have gone to that bastard’s house. Maybe she wouldn’t have… died.”

A wave of guilt crushed me. My fist clenched tightly as I tried to keep myself frompletely unraveling. But the truth was like ba /bmirror I couldn’t look away from.

I had a hand in her death.

I pushed her away. Humiliated her. If I had given her even a fraction of kindnessb, /bmaybe she would’ve stayed away from Julian. Maybe she would still bbe /balive. The weight of that reality was unbearable.

I wasn’t in love with her. At least I didn’t think I was. But what I felt right now–this twisting pain, this hollow space bin /bmy chest–it was more bthan /bguilt. It was something deeper, something raw. Something that wouldn’t let go.

What’s actually going on with me?

“There’s no need to cry over anyone, darling,” Dora’s voice cut in again, her fingers weaving gently through my hair. “I’m here for youb, /bokayb? /bbYou /bbdon’t/b, need to go through this alone.”

I didn’t move. I couldn’t. But her presence, her words, felt wrong in that moment. bI /bdidn’t wantfort. I didn’t want anyone to make this bfeel /bbbetter/bb. /bI needed to feel this. bTo /bsit with it. To let the pain speak, even if it shattered mepletely.

“I’d like to be alone right now,” I said quietly, my voice steady but firm.

“But…”

“Leave. Now.” I interrupted herb, /bmy tone sharp, leaving bno /broom for argument.

b09:09 /bbFri/b, 13 bJun /bbK /b

She froze, then stood silently, her footsteps soft as she walked out and gently closed the door behind her.

G