Adrian stepped out of the bathroom, still drying his hands with a towel, his movements calm, unhurried—exactly as they had been all evening.
Nothing about him suggested that anything had changed.
But Elena had.
He saw it immediately.
The tension in her posture. The way she held herself too still. The way her eyes didn't quite meet his.
"Baby… what is it?" he asked softly, stepping closer.
He reached for her but she moved back.
It was subtle.
But it was enough.
Adrian stopped.
Something flickered in his expression—confusion first, then something sharper beneath it.
"Elena?"
She swallowed, her throat tight, her hands cold despite the warmth of the room.
"I know you don't want to talk about it," she said quietly, forcing the words out before she could stop herself. "But I need to know."
A pause.
"You have to tell me… what happened to Victoria?"
For a moment, he just looked at her.
Really looked.
And then—
something shifted.
Not guilt.
Not fear.
Something else.
Disbelief.
"What do you mean?" he asked, his tone measured, controlled. "What happened to her?"
Elena stared at him, searching his face for anything—anything that didn't feel rehearsed.
"She came to the house," she said slowly. "She was scared. She said her agency dropped her. She said only you could have done that."
Silence stretched between them.
Adrian exhaled lightly, as if this was nothing more than an inconvenience.
"She left the agency," he said.
Left.
Not was dropped.
Not was forced out.
Left.
Elena's lips pressed into a thin line.
The distinction landed harder than anything else he could have said.
She didn't speak for a moment, her mind turning over the word again and again.
Left.
As if it had been her choice.
As if nothing had been done to her.
As if Adrian had nothing to do with it.
Her chest tightened.
"You did it," she whispered.
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Something in Adrian hardened instantly.
"I don't allow people to think they can do whatever they want," he replied coldly.
No denial.
No hesitation.
Just a statement.
Final.
He turned away from her as if the conversation was already over, already beneath him, and walked into the living area.
Elena followed him.
Of course she did.
He reached for the bottle of whisky, poured himself a glass with steady hands, the amber liquid catching the dim light.
"I'm not discussing this any further," he said without looking at her. "This conversation is over."
Elena's heart started racing.
"No," she said, her voice stronger now, sharper. "It's not over."
He didn't react. Didn't even turn.
"You didn't explain anything," she continued, stepping closer. "You expect me to just—what? Accept it? Pretend it doesn't matter?"
Still nothing. Her voice rose despite herself.
"I need to know the truth. Otherwise I can't keep living like this—"
"Elena."
Her name snapped through the air like a warning. But she didn't stop.
"I can't keep living like nothing is wrong—"
"Enough."
The word came with force.
Adrian turned sharply—and the glass in his hand shattered.
The sound cracked through the room, sharp and violent, whisky spilling across his fingers as shards fell to the floor.
Elena froze.
For a second, neither of them moved. Then he crossed the distance between them in two steps.
Fast.
His hand came up, gripping her jaw, forcing her to look at him. His fingers pressed hard into her skin, not enough to injure—but enough to hurt.
Enough to make her breath catch.
"You can't live like this?" he repeated, his voice low but vibrating with anger. "You can't live the way you've been living?"
His grip tightened.
"You can't be my wife?" he continued, his words cutting deeper with each one. "You can't live in the safe world I built for you?"
Her heart pounded wildly, fear mixing with something far more complicated.
"You can't live in the house I gave you?" he went on, relentless now. "You can't have everything you've ever wanted?"
His gaze dropped briefly, darkening.
"You can't be with me the way you were just now?"
The shift in his tone made her stomach twist.
"Without control," he added, quieter but more dangerous. "Losing yourself from just a touch."
Before she could react, he turned her, pulling her back against him.
Her breath hitched sharply as she felt him behind her, felt the tension in his body, the unmistakable heat of him still there, still affected.
The contrast made her feel sick.
"How can you talk to me like this?" she whispered, her voice breaking. "After everything— You're cruel," she added, tears rising in her eyes.
Adrian went still for a second.
Then—
"I am," he said quietly.
The words weren't defensive.
They were calm.
Certain.
He leaned closer, his face pressing briefly into her hair, his breath warm against her skin.
"And I'm your husband."
Elena's chest tightened painfully.
"And tonight," he continued, his voice lowering again, softer but no less firm, "I don't want to hear anything that doesn't concern our future. Our happy future."
The words felt wrong.
Distorted.
Like something that didn't belong in the same sentence as everything that had just happened.
His hand slid along her arm, not gentle, not rough—just… claiming.
"We're going back to the bedroom," he said.
Not a suggestion.
A decision.
"You're going to take that dress off for me."
Her breath caught.
"And you're going to be on your knees," he added, his tone almost conversational now. "Like the obedient wife you are."
Something inside her snapped.
"I'm not your toy," she hissed, struggling against him.
But he was stronger.
Effortlessly.
Her attempt barely registered.
His grip didn't loosen.
Not even slightly.
"You're not a toy," he said softly.
Too softly.
The kind of softness that made her shiver for all the wrong reasons.
His lips brushed near her ear.
"But tonight…"
A pause.
"…you'll forget everything that doesn't matter."
Elena went still.
Because that—
that was the worst part.
Not the anger.
Not the control.
But the way he said it like it was kindness.
Like erasing her fear, her doubt, her questions—
was something he was doing for her.
And for the first time since she had seen Victoria's face on that screen—
Elena realized something with terrifying clarity.
This wasn't just about what Adrian had done.
It was about what he was capable of doing next.