CHAPTER 87: BELONG TO SOMEONE ELSE

Adrian’s knuckles whitened around the steering wheel as he gripped it tighter, the city’s lights blurring in his peripheral vision.

His pulse was still pounding.

He hadn’t been able to get the image out of his head—Nicholas Carter standing there like something out of a nightmare, like some living warning sign written in sharp suits and sharper words. Calm. Lethal. Unbothered by Adrian’s very existence. It wasn’t fury that had made Adrian’s skin crawl.

It was that control.

That terrifying, casual ownership.

I’m her husband.

Those words still echoed in his ears, over and over, like a bell toll, mocking him, pressing against the fragile edges of his ego until it splintered.

Married.

Ella—his Ella—belonged to someone else.

Someone richer.

Someone better.

Someone who could say three words and make Adrian feel like a child pretending to play in a world far too big for him.

He should’ve hit him. Should’ve knocked that smug, polished expression off his face. But he didn’t, because deep down—under the anger, under the bruised pride, under the humiliation—Adrian knew that Nicholas Carter wouldn’t have hit back.

He wouldn’t have needed to.

Men like Nicholas destroyed people quietly. The dangerous kind of rich—not flashy, not loud—silent. Dangerous, old-money quiet.

Adrian could’ve caused a scene. Could’ve swung at him.

But it wouldn’t have mattered. Because standing there in that café with Ella trembling behind the counter, Adrian realized something awful:

He was the one out of place.

He was the intruder.

And the worst part? He didn’t even know if Ella would’ve stopped him. She didn’t push him away. But she didn’t lean in, either.

She froze.

Like she hadn’t known what she wanted.

Like maybe—for one terrifying, hopeful second—he thought he could’ve had her back.

But now? That hope was ash in his throat.

Adrian’s stomach twisted violently as he pulled the car into the side of a dimly lit street, cutting the engine but leaving the radio on, just for noise.

His chest was tight, breath uneven.

She married him.

Nicholas. Fucking Nicholas Carter.

Of all the people, she had to pick him.

Ella—the one good thing he’d ever had, the one soft, warm, real thing—now belonged to a man who looked at Adrian like he was something under his shoe.

And Ella—

God, her eyes haunted him. That hesitation. That crack of guilt when she looked at Nicholas like he was the one who mattered.

Adrian rubbed a hand down his face, gripping his jaw hard enough to ache.

How had it all gotten this bad?

Before he could spiral any further, his phone buzzed against the center console.

Clara.

The name on the screen felt like a punch to the ribs.

For a second, he nearly let it ring out.

But he was too raw, too frayed at the edges, too humiliated to sit in this silence by himself.

He snatched up the phone and answered with a clipped, "What?"

Silence on the other end at first, and then—

"Adrian?" Clara’s voice was soft, broken, the sound of practiced fragility dripping through the speaker. "Are you—are you okay?"

The bitter laugh that bubbled out of him was sharp and humorless. "You don’t get to ask me that."

She sniffled softly. Crying. Of course she was crying. "I’m sorry," she whispered. "I just—I miss you."

Adrian’s jaw tensed. He pressed his thumb to his temple, feeling the slow start of a headache blooming behind his eyes. "Clara, this isn’t the time."

"It’s never the time with you anymore," she murmured, a wounded softness in her tone. "You’re always somewhere else. Even when you’re here."

"Jesus, Clara—"

"Did you go to see Ella?."

Adrian froze.

The nausea he’d been swallowing down churned harder now.

"I know you did," Clara continued, voice cracking just enough to make it sound accidental, not practiced. "I followed you.. I saw you... almost kiss her."

It was the almost that made Adrian flinch.

She knew.

The humiliation of it spread through him like acid, burning his insides raw.

"Is that why you called?" he snapped, defensive now, brittle with shame. "To gloat?"

"No," Clara said immediately, voice trembling. "I’m calling because I love you."

That word tasted rotten in his mouth now.

Love.

No one in this godforsaken mess knew how to love anyone properly.

"You don’t love me," he muttered. "You love the idea of me. You love winning."

"That’s not true."

"Isn’t it?"

Clara’s voice broke. "I’m pregnant, Adrian. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?"

The headache behind his eyes sharpened, cutting like a knife between his brows. "Don’t use that."

"I’m not using it," she insisted. "I’m telling you because I’m alone, Adrian. Because I need you. Because despite everything, I still choose you."

Adrian swallowed hard, teeth clenching together painfully.

Because wasn’t that what he wanted from Ella just ten minutes ago?

Someone to choose him?

The irony made him sick.

Clara sniffled again, softer now, like she knew how to fold herself small in just the right ways. "Come home," she whispered. "Please. We don’t have to fix everything right now. Just... come home."

Adrian squeezed his eyes shut. The shame, the anger, the helplessness crashing over him like violent waves.

He didn’t love Clara.

Not really.

But Clara was here. Clara was offering something—comfort, distraction, the illusion of belonging. And after standing in that café like a fool, watching the woman he’d once loved fall apart in front of someone else’s arms...

Maybe distraction was better than nothing.

"Fine," he muttered after a beat. "I’m on my way."

Clara’s breath caught softly on the other end. "Thank you."

He hung up before she could say anything else, the empty weight of his choices pressing down like concrete on his chest.

He hated Nicholas Carter.

He hated that Ella had chosen him.

But more than that?

He hated himself for caring this much.

And as he pulled the car back onto the street, heading toward the pristine emptiness of Clara’s apartment, one thing settled heavy in his stomach:

Even if he went home to Clara tonight... he was already lost.

And no amount of pretending would fix that.

Not now.

Not ever.