Elena didn't panic anymore.
The fear was still there, constant and sharp beneath the surface, but she no longer let it control her movements, her voice, the way she looked at him. Instead, she started thinking—really thinking—for the first time since Amalfi. Running blindly wasn't an option, not with Adrian, not with the way his world worked. If she wanted to disappear, she needed more than courage. She needed time, money, distance, and a plan strong enough to hold when everything else began to fall apart.
And to get that—
she needed him to believe she wasn't going anywhere.
So she adjusted.
Not too much. Not enough to be obvious. Just small things—a softer tone, a longer look, a touch that lingered slightly longer than necessary. Enough to feel familiar. Enough to feel like before.
Enough to lower his guard.
—
Inviting Masha had been part of that.
Deliberate. Calculated.
If Adrian saw normality, he would allow it. And if he allowed it, even slightly, she would gain something she didn't have now—space.
By evening, the house reflected exactly what Elena needed it to.
Warm light spilled across the living room, soft and golden, catching on the edges of glass and polished surfaces. A bottle of wine stood open on the table, already half-empty, two glasses beside it.
Masha sat comfortably on the sofa, one leg tucked under her, her posture relaxed in a way that felt almost out of place in this house. She had Adrian's features—the same dark lines, the same structure—but where he was controlled, she was open. Her blonde hair fell loosely over her shoulders, slightly messy, completely unbothered, and her eyes were bright, almost playful, carrying that same easy warmth Elena remembered from years ago.
Seven years.
That's how long they had known each other.
Long before Adrian.Long before any of this.
"You've been avoiding me," Masha said lightly, lifting her glass with a teasing smile.
"I've been busy," Elena replied, returning the smile without effort.
"Busy being married," Masha corrected, amused. "Which, judging by your face, is a full-time occupation."
Elena laughed softly, and for a moment it didn't feel like an act.
"Something like that."
The conversation slipped into something easy after that, moving through familiar territory—old memories, shared jokes, stories that didn't carry weight. It was effortless in a way that felt almost foreign, like stepping briefly into a life that had nothing to do with Adrian.
For a while, Elena allowed herself to stay there.
Almost forgetting.
—
The front door opened.
The shift was immediate, even before he appeared, something in the air tightening in a way only she seemed to notice.
Adrian entered a moment later, loosening his tie as he walked in, his gaze moving first to Masha, then to Elena. It lingered there just a fraction longer, subtle but unmistakable.
Observing.
Always observing.
"Masha," he said, his tone warming slightly.
"Finally," she replied, rolling her eyes. "I was starting to think you'd moved into the office permanently."
"Tempting," he said dryly, stepping further into the room.
Elena watched him as he approached, noting the ease in his movements, the way he filled the space without trying. He sat down beside them, one arm resting along the back of the sofa, close enough to her to feel intentional, but not enough to be overt.
Controlled.
Always controlled.
"How was Amalfi?" Masha asked, turning to Elena with genuine curiosity.
Elena didn't hesitate.
"It was beautiful," she said lightly, reaching for her glass. "Exactly what we needed."
She could feel Adrian watching her.
Measuring.
"We barely left the hotel," she added, letting a small smile curve her lips.
Masha laughed.
"I'm not surprised."
The moment settled into something almost normal again, the rhythm of conversation smoothing over the edges.
Until—
"I saw something online the other day," Masha said, her tone shifting just slightly. "About someone I used to know."
Elena's fingers tightened imperceptibly around her glass.
"Victoria," Masha continued. "She was with that agency for a while, right? I met her once, at some event."
For a split second, everything inside Elena went still.
Not outwardly.
She had learned better than that.
But inside—
everything locked.
She forced herself to breathe, slow and even, lowering her glass carefully so it didn't make a sound.
"That's… awful," she said, her voice soft, controlled. "I heard something about it."
Masha frowned slightly.
"They're saying it was suicide, but I don't know. She didn't seem like that kind of person."
Neither did I.
The thought stayed exactly where it was.
Elena nodded once, her expression composed.
"It's a shame."
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
Adrian didn't react. He shifted the conversation effortlessly, asking Masha about something else, his tone calm, unaffected, as if the name meant nothing to him.
As if it hadn't just cut through the room.
Elena didn't look at him.
She didn't need to.
She could feel it.
He was watching her.
—
Masha stayed long enough for everything to settle again, long enough for the evening to feel convincingly real.
When she finally stood to leave, she pulled Elena into a warm, lingering hug.
"Call me," she said quietly. "Don't disappear again."
"I won't."
This time, Elena meant it.
Adrian walked her out.
Elena remained in the living room, her posture still, her hands resting loosely in her lap, waiting without looking like she was waiting.
—
When he returned, the atmosphere shifted again.
The warmth drained out of the room, leaving something quieter, heavier in its place.
Adrian moved to the bar, poured himself a drink, and took a slow sip before speaking.
"Do you think I had something to do with her death?"
The question came easily.
Too easily.
Elena felt her entire body go still.
She turned her head slowly, meeting his gaze.
There was no anger in it.
No tension.
Just curiosity.
Or something that resembled it.
"I think," she said carefully, "that if you did, the police will be here soon."
A brief silence followed.
Measured.
Then Adrian nodded.
"Good."
He finished his drink, set the glass aside, and reached for his jacket.
"I need to go back to work."
Of course he did.
He crossed the room toward her, stopping just close enough to touch, his hand lifting to her face with a softness that didn't belong to anything that had just been said.
His fingers brushed her cheek.
Almost gentle.
Almost real.
"Don't forget that I love you," he murmured.
Elena held his gaze, steady now, unreadable.
Then she nodded.
"I know."
She wasn't sure if it was a lie anymore.
That was the most dangerous part.
Adrian studied her for a moment longer, as if searching for something deeper, something she wasn't willing to show.
Then he turned and left.
The sound of the door closing echoed softly through the house.
Elena remained where she was, unmoving, her thoughts settling into something colder, sharper, more defined than before.
Because now she understood one thing with absolute clarity.
This wasn't about proving anything.
It wasn't about the truth.
It was about getting out.
And this time—
she wasn't going to fail.