Adrian's POV
"We need to figure out who sent those messages," I say, forcing my doctor-brain to take over before the panic does. "Now."
Elena's face is pale but determined. That fire in her eyes—the one I thought had died two years ago—is blazing again. It makes my heart pound for reasons that have nothing to do with the blackmail threat.
"My phone records," she says, grabbing her cell. "Can we trace the number?"
I take it from her, my fingers brushing hers. Even now, even terrified, I feel that jolt of electricity. Five years of wanting this woman, and a simple touch still undoes me.
Focus, Adrian. Lives are at stake. Her life is at stake.
I examine the messages. "Unknown number. Probably a burner phone. But the messages came through as texts, not from an app, which means—"
"They're close," Marcus finishes, his face dark. "Close enough to use a regular cell tower."
"Someone in Seattle," Daniel adds grimly. "Someone who's been watching us."
Elena wraps her arms around herself. "But who? Who would care enough to spy on us?"
I run through possibilities in my head. My job as a surgeon taught me to think logically, to diagnose problems by eliminating options. "Let's think about this. Who knows about Daniel's condition? Who visits this house regularly?"
"Physical therapists," Daniel lists. "The nurse who comes Tuesdays. My assistant, Rebecca. Elena's friend—"
"Jenna," Elena whispers, her eyes widening. "Oh God. Jenna."
My stomach drops. Jenna Marsh. Elena's best friend since college. The same woman who's been acting strange lately, according to Marcus.
"What about Jenna?" I ask carefully.
Elena sits down hard. "She came by last week. I was upset, crying about... about how lonely I was. How I felt invisible. She asked if I'd ever thought about leaving Daniel."
"What did you say?" Daniel's voice is tight.
"I said no. That I loved you. But..." Elena's face crumples. "But she saw something. I know she did. She asked if I'd been spending time with you two. If I was getting 'too close' to Daniel's friends."
Marcus curses. "She's been jealous of Elena for years. Always competing, always comparing."
"How do you know that?" I ask sharply.
"Because she tried to kiss me six months ago," Marcus admits, not looking at Elena. "At that charity gala. She was drunk, said something about how Elena didn't deserve to have everything—a husband, a beautiful home, and men who actually wanted her."
Elena's mouth falls open. "She tried to kiss you? Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you had enough to deal with," Marcus says flatly. "And I handled it. Told her to go home and sober up. She apologized the next day, said she didn't remember. I thought that was the end of it."
But it wasn't. My mind races. A jealous best friend who knows Elena's unhappy. Who's seen us coming to the house every week. Who might have overheard something, noticed something.
"She has a key," Elena breathes. "To the house. For emergencies. Oh my God, what if she's been—"
The doorbell rings.
We all freeze.
"Are we expecting anyone?" I ask.
Daniel shakes his head. Marcus is already moving toward the window, looking out carefully.
His face goes white. "It's Jenna."
"What?" Elena jumps up. "What is she doing here?"
"I don't know, but she looks..." Marcus pauses. "She looks angry."
The doorbell rings again. Then again. Then she starts pounding on the door.
"Elena!" Jenna's voice shouts from outside. "I know you're in there! Open the door! We need to talk!"
Elena looks at me, terrified. "What do I do?"
"Don't open it," Daniel says immediately. "Not until we know—"
"If I don't, she'll know something's wrong," Elena argues. "She'll get more suspicious."
She's right. We're trapped. If Elena opens the door, Jenna might confirm she's the blackmailer—and God knows what she'll do then. If Elena doesn't open it, we're basically admitting we know.
"I'll go with you," I say, making a decision. "We'll act normal. Like we're just here for Daniel's therapy session."
"Normal," Elena repeats, laughing without humor. "Right. Because everything about this is normal."
The pounding gets louder. "Elena! I swear to God, if you're with them right now—"
Marcus and I exchange looks. She knows. She definitely knows.
Elena takes a shaky breath and walks to the door. I follow close behind, every muscle tense. As a surgeon, I'm used to high-pressure situations. But this? This is different. This is Elena's entire life about to explode.
She opens the door.
Jenna stands there in yoga clothes, her blonde hair pulled back, her phone clutched in her hand. Her eyes are red, like she's been crying. Or maybe like she's been up all night planning revenge.
"Hey, Jen," Elena says, her voice admirably steady. "What's wrong?"
Jenna's eyes flick to me standing behind Elena, then back to her friend. "We need to talk. Alone."
"Adrian was just leaving—" Elena starts.
"No, he wasn't," Jenna interrupts. Her voice is cold. Hard. Nothing like the bubbly friend I've met at dinner parties. "He was staying. Him and Marcus and Daniel. All of you, having your little meetings. Planning your little arrangement."
Elena's face drains of color. "I don't know what you're—"
"Don't lie to me!" Jenna's voice cracks. "I've been your best friend for ten years, Elena. Ten years! And you're going to stand there and lie to my face?"
"Jenna, please calm down," I say, using my doctor voice—calm, authoritative. "Whatever you think you know—"
"I don't think. I KNOW." Jenna shoves her phone in Elena's face. "I heard everything. I've been hearing everything for weeks."
My blood runs ice-cold. "What do you mean, hearing?"
Jenna's smile is bitter. "You want to know how I know? Fine. I'll show you."
She pushes past Elena into the house. We follow her to the living room where Daniel and Marcus are frozen, watching. Jenna goes straight to the lamp on the side table—the decorative one Elena's mother gave them last Christmas.
She unscrews the bulb, reaches inside, and pulls out something small and black.
A listening device.
"I've been listening to every word," Jenna says, her voice shaking with emotion. "Every pathetic word about sharing Elena like she's some kind of object. About how you all think you can just... just play house with my best friend!"
Elena sways. I grab her arm to steady her. "You bugged the house?"
"Three weeks ago," Jenna admits. "When Elena told me she was miserable. When I realized her perfect life was falling apart. I wanted to help her. I wanted to protect her from making a huge mistake."
"By spying on her?" Marcus growls.
"By proving that you're all toxic!" Jenna screams. "Elena deserves better than this. Better than a husband who wants to pimp her out to his friends. Better than two men who claim to love her but are really just using her for—"
"Stop," Elena says quietly.
Jenna stops, breathing hard.
Elena steps forward, her voice like steel. "Get out of my house."
"Elena—"
"You violated my privacy. You spied on me. You threatened me." Elena's hands are shaking but her voice doesn't waver. "You're not my friend. Friends don't do this."
Jenna's eyes fill with tears. "I'm trying to save you—"
"I don't need saving," Elena says. "I need you to leave."
For a moment, I think Jenna will argue. Will fight. Instead, something ugly crosses her face.
"Fine," she says softly. "But you should know—that's not the only bug in this house. And the recordings? I already uploaded them. To the cloud. Time-stamped and everything."
My heart stops.
"If anything happens to me," Jenna continues, heading for the door, "if I get fired, or arrested, or even just blocked from your life, Elena... those recordings go public. Automatically. To everyone you know."
She pauses at the door, looking back with cold eyes.
"So ask yourself—is your perverted little fantasy worth destroying all your lives? Because that's what will happen. I'll make sure of it."
The door slams behind her.
For three seconds, nobody moves. Nobody breathes.
Then Elena collapses, and I barely catch her before she hits the floor.