Adrien's POV
"…The true success of a structure lies not in its height, but in its permanence," the white-haired man was saying, swirling the amber in his glass like it was the only thing worth looking at.
I nodded, half-listening, my attention split.
Where the hell was Clara?
It had been a bit long since I asked her to go check on Isabella… on purpose.
—FLASHBACK BEGINS—
It had been three days after Isabella was hospitalized that I confronted Clara about what she did.
I still remember her tears. The performance she put on while she begged me to believe her.
"I'd never hurt her, Adrien," she'd said, trembling in my office that day.
I'd tested it myself—watched her tremble as I made her soak cucumbers, patch-test her skin, stand in silence while the clock ticked.
Nothing happened.
And for one second—a weak, stupid second—I'd almost believed her.
