bChapter /bb233 /b

    bADRIAN’S /bbPOV /b

    bThe /bfaint knock came from my door, steady but not urgent, the kind of knock that came when someone was hesitant to disturb me bbut /bhad no choice. bdidn’t /beven need to ask who it was for.

    “Yes,e in,” I said without looking up, my thumb still scrollingzily through my phone screen.

    The door creaked open, and one of my staff stepped inside, a neatly dressed young man in a pressed shirt and tie.

    “Good afternoon sir,” he said, his voice formal, followed by a small bow of respect.

    He hesitated for just a moment before adding, “There’s ady standing outside at the gate. Should we let her in?”

    I finally turned my head toward the monitor on the wall. The ck–and–white feed from the gate’s security camera came into focus, and there she bwas /bDora. Standing in the sun, her hair tied neatly, dressed in something she probably thought would impress me.

    She just didn’t want to give up. No matter how many times I shut the door–literally and figuratively–she kepting back.

    I leaned back slightly in my chair. If James were here, he’d probably tell me to hear her out, at least for the sake of closure, James always had that kind of soft spot for giving people “onest chance.” Me? I wasn’t in the business of handing out second chances anymore–not to her. Still… maybe hearing her out would save me from the inevitable dozens of other visits she’d try to make.

    But I’d never believe a word she said again. That part was non–negotiable.

    I nced at the staff member and gave him a small nod. He understood immediately, bowing again before quietly stepping out of the room.

    It had been months since I’d spoken to Dora. I’d made a deliberate choice to cut her out of my lifepletely. She didn’t deserve my attention, not after what she’d done. You don’t lie about having someone’s child for months and expect them to forgive you like nothing happened.

    Even now, I could still remember the exact moment the truth came out. The way she’d looked at me, her voice shaking, trying to spin it in a way that made her look like the victim. I’d been angry before in my life, but that day… that was something else.

    And yet, here she was, back again. I wasn’t going to wee her back. I wasn’t going to pretend things could go back to the way they wereb. /bI just wanted to hear what new lie she’d prepared this time, then send her away for good.

    I rose from my chair and started toward the door, my phone still in my hand. My footsteps echoed lightly in the hall as I made my way downstairs. bThe /bliving room came into view, and there she was.

    She was seated on the edge of the couch like she didn’t know how to rx, her hands resting neatly on herp. Her head turned slowly, her eyes wandering over the space like she’d never been here before–like this wasn’t the same living room she’d spent countless bmonthss /bbin/b.

    The sound of my footsteps on the stairs drew her attention immediately. Her head snapped toward me, and the moment our beyes /bme e bstood/bb. /bThat same smile appeared on her face–the one she probably thought was disarming, maybe even charming. To me, it was just another mask, banother /bperformance.

    “Thanks for letting me in,” she said, her voice light, like we were old friends meeting after years apart.

    “You have five minutes,” I told her tly, taking a seat iin /ithe armchair opposite her. “I’m really busy, so hurry up.”

    Her smile faltered slightly, but she recovered quickly, leaning forward just enough to look like she was trying to close bthe /bdistance between bus/b.

    “How have you been?” she asked, her toneced with concern she clearly wanted me to believe was real.

    bI /bdidn’t banswer/b. I raised one eyebrow, my eyes fixed on herb. /b“Is that what you came here bto /bbtalk /bbabout/bb?/bb” /bI asked. bMy /bbvoice /bbwas /bbcalm/bb, /bbbut /bbit /bbcarried /bbenough /bweight to make her shift ufortably.

    b1/3 /b

    bChapter /bb233 /b

    “bI /bbcame /bbto /bsee byou/bb, /bAdrian. We haven’t spoken in months…”

    b“/bbAnd /bwhose fault is that?” I cut her off before she could slip into one of her rehearsed speeches,

    Her lips pressed together briefly before she asked, “You’re still angry with me?”

    That almost made meugh–almost. The fact she could even phrase it like that, like my anger was some irrational thing I should have let go of by now, was almost insulting.

    “Did you expect me to wee you with open arms?” I asked, leaning forward slightly, my tone sharper now. “That has never happened, and bit /bwill never happen.”

    “Why are you doing this to me?” she asked, her voice trembling, though I could tell it wasn’t from fear. No–Dora wasn’t afraid of me. She was bafraid /bbof /blosing control over me.

    “Wow,” I scoffed, leaning back in my chair, “trying to make me the bad guy even after what you did?” My tone was calm, but inside I could feel bthe /bheat rising. She had some nerve showing up here and turning the tables on me like she was the victim.

    “It was just a small lie. There’s nothing wrong in what I did. I didn’t kill anyone for God’s sake! People do way worse things than that.” She spoke bfast/b, her

    head. my hands gesturing wildly as if she could physically push her excuse into

    I let out a coldugh. “A small lie, huh? Let me give you a few examples iof /ismall lies–‘I can fly,‘ that’s a small lie. ‘I’ve been to the moon,’ that’s a smalt lie. But what you did? You don’t ever, and I mean ever, call that a small lie. You deceived me. You made me believe I was going to be a father. Do you understand what that meant to me? I was excited, Dora–excited to walk into the path of fatherhood. Then you took that hope, that joyb, /band you crushed it. For months, you dangled it in front of me like it was real, and for what?”

    Her eyes softened, but I didn’t buy it. “For your love, Adrian. For your attention and care. You have no idea how it felt. The way you treated me like an egg when you found out I was pregnant–it was the best feeling I’ve ever had in my life. You personally brought me breakfast in bed. You wouldn’t let me lift a finger. You checked on me every hour, every day. Those were precious moments, and I’ll do anything–anything–to have them again.”

    I shook my head slowly, each word deliberate. “First of all, I only did all those things because I thought you were pregnant. I was taking responsibility for my child. That’s it. It had nothing to do with you as a person. So don’t twist it into something it wasn’t. And let me make this crystal clear–I don’t love you. I never have, and I will never love a woman like you.”

    Her ilips /iparted, iher /ivoice desperate. “But…”

    “Time’s up,” I cut her off sharply, ncing at my wristwatch for emphasis. “You’ve had your five minutes. It’s time for you to leave.” I pushed myself to my feet, already turning toward the stairs.”

    “This isn’t what your mom would have wanted, and you know it!” she called after me, her voiceced with urgency. “Your mom wanted us together, Adrian. She loved me, and iyou /iloved her so much. Why aren’t you fulfilling her wishes?”

    Her words made ime /istop mid–istep/i. My jaw tightened, my hands curling iinto /iifists /iat my sides. Slowly, I turned to face her. b“/bDon’t y mom,” I said, my ivoice /ilow and dangerous. “And you’re right–this isn’t what my mom would have wanted. Because wherever sh see the kind of snake you really are. iAnd /ishe iwould /inever want me to be with you.”

    ver talk about my bht /bbnow/bb, /bbshe /bcan

    Dora flinched slightly at the venom in my wordsi, /ibut I ididn’t /icare. “See yourself out,” I added tly, before turning my back on her and heading bup /bbthe /bstairs without another nce.

    Behind me, her voice followed, persistent and pathetic. “I won’t stop, Adrian. I’ll keep trying, because I love you. And one day, we will be togetherb./bb” /b

    I rolled my eyes as I reached the top of the stairs. She ididn’t /ieven realize that every word she spoke made me want her in my life less and bless/bb. /bbWhy /bbidid /i/bI even bother to listen to her in the first ce? She ihadn’t /ieven bothered to apologize—not really. Not for the lie. Not for the months bof /bbimaniption/i/b.