Adrian's POV
"She's here."
David's voice through the intercom makes my blood run cold. I know exactly who "she" is.
Elena Chase.
Four weeks since that night. Four weeks of nightmares where I wake up reaching for someone who's not there. Four weeks of the blackmailer's silence, which is somehow worse than their threats.
And now she's here.
"Send her away," I say, my voice harder than I feel. "I don't want to see her."
"Adrian, she says it's urgent. She looks—" David pauses. "She looks desperate. Maybe you should—"
"No." I cut him off. "Tell security to remove her if she won't leave voluntarily."
I can't see her. Can't risk the blackmailer finding out we're talking. Can't let myself care about the girl who might be carrying my child.
The girl I've been dreaming about for four weeks.
The girl I convinced myself was part of the trap.
My office door opens without warning. Vanessa Chase sweeps in, perfectly put together as always. She's been my "girlfriend" for three weeks now—another move forced by the blackmailer's chess game.
Date Vanessa Chase publicly, or the video goes to the press.
I obeyed. Like a puppet on strings.
"Darling, we need to talk." Vanessa's smile doesn't reach her eyes. It never does. "My sister is downstairs making a scene."
My stomach drops. "Elena?"
"Who else?" She perches on my desk, too close. I hate when she does that. "She's probably here to beg you not to destroy Daddy's company. Or worse—she might try to seduce you. Elena's always been... desperate for attention."
Something in her tone makes my skin crawl. "She's your sister."
"Half-sister. And not a very bright one." Vanessa examines her nails. "Adrian, darling, I need to warn you about something. Elena has been telling people she's pregnant."
The room tilts. "What?"
"I know. It's ridiculous." Vanessa's laugh is too sharp. "She's claiming some mystery man got her pregnant and abandoned her. Very dramatic. Very Elena." She leans closer. "But Adrian, I'm worried she might try to say it's yours."
"That's impossible. We've never—"
"I know you haven't. But Elena's smart in a cunning sort of way. She knows you're acquiring Dad's company. She knows you're powerful and wealthy. What better way to stop the acquisition than to trap you with a fake pregnancy scandal?"
My mind races. The blackmailer's note said Elena was pregnant. But they also planted doubt about whether she was part of the scheme.
Is Vanessa right? Is Elena trying to trap me?
But I remember her fear. Her tears. The way she begged me not to call anyone.
That wasn't acting. Was it?
"Why are you telling me this?" I ask carefully.
"Because I care about you." Vanessa touches my arm. Her hand is cold. "We've been dating for three weeks now, and I feel like I can be honest with you. Elena is... troubled. She's always making up stories for attention. Our father stopped believing her years ago."
"And you think she'll accuse me of being the father?"
"I know she will." Vanessa's eyes gleam. "In fact, she's probably downstairs right now, preparing her performance. So when she comes up here crying about being pregnant with your baby, you'll know it's a lie."
It's too convenient. Too perfectly timed. But the doubt is there now, poisoning everything.
"I should go down," I say. "Handle this before she causes a scene."
"Good idea." Vanessa slides off my desk. "I'll come with you. For moral support."
We take the elevator down. My heart pounds with every floor. I shouldn't have left that note. Should have stayed. Should have talked to Elena like an adult instead of running like a coward.
But I was scared. Terrified of turning into my father. Terrified of being trapped.
And now I might have a child I'll never know.
The elevator doors open to chaos.
Elena stands in the middle of the lobby, looking like she's been through hell. Dark circles under her eyes. Too thin. Shaking like a leaf.
And despite everything—the warnings, the doubts, the blackmail—my first instinct is to go to her. To ask if she's okay. To protect her.
I crush that instinct. Hard.
"Adrian, darling, who is this?" Vanessa's performance is perfect. Sweet. Innocent. Completely fake.
Elena's honey-gold eyes meet mine, and I see hope there. Desperate, foolish hope.
"Adrian, I need to talk to you. Alone. Please."
Her voice cracks on "please," and something in my chest cracks with it.
"I'm busy." The ice in my voice is armor. "Whatever you need to say can wait."
"It can't." She steps forward. "Please. Five minutes. It's important."
Run, I want to tell her. Run before this gets worse. Before I destroy you completely.
But I can't warn her without tipping off Vanessa. Without risking the blackmailer's wrath.
So I do what I'm told. What I've been doing for four weeks.
I play my part.
"How do you two know each other?" Vanessa's question is poison wrapped in silk.
"We don't. She's Richard Chase's daughter. Probably here to beg me not to finalize the acquisition."
The hurt on Elena's face almost breaks me.
"That's not why I'm here." Her voice shakes. "Adrian, I'm—"
David appears beside me, right on cue. I texted him from the elevator, told him to interrupt. To stop Elena before she says something that will destroy us both.
"Mr. Wolfe doesn't have time for this," David says. "Miss Chase, you need to leave. Now."
"I'm pregnant!" The words explode from Elena's mouth. "I'm pregnant, and it's yours!"
Everything stops.
The lobby goes silent. Vanessa gasps. Security guards freeze.
And I stare at Elena, at the truth written all over her face, and know with absolute certainty that she's not lying.
She's carrying my child.
My child.
The thing I swore I'd never have because I was too damaged, too broken, too scared of turning into my father.
For one perfect second, I let myself feel it. Joy. Terror. Hope.
Then my phone buzzes in my pocket. A text from the unknown number.
I don't need to read it to know what it says. Deny her. Destroy her. Or the video goes public.
I look at Elena—desperate, pregnant, alone—and I make a choice.
The wrong choice.
"That's an interesting claim." My voice is pure ice. "But I'm afraid you're mistaken. We've never met before today."
Her face crumbles. "What? But that night—the hotel—"
"I've never been to a hotel with you." I step closer, hating myself with every word. "And I'd be very careful about making false accusations, Miss Chase. That sounds a lot like blackmail."
I watch her break. Watch hope die in her eyes. Watch her realize I'm choosing my empire over her and our child.
And I hate myself more than I've ever hated anyone.
But I'm trapped. If I acknowledge the pregnancy, the blackmailer wins. The video goes public. Elena gets destroyed anyway, but slower. More painfully.
At least this way, she can move on. Find someone better. Raise our child away from my disaster of a life.
At least this way, she'll be safe.
Even if she hates me forever.
Security drags her out. She's crying, begging, breaking apart in front of everyone.
I stand there, frozen, while Vanessa loops her arm through mine like we're a team.
"That was awful," she murmurs. "But necessary. She'll recover."
I say nothing. Can't speak past the knife in my throat.
David appears beside me once Elena is gone. "Adrian—"
"Not now."
"Adrian, you need to know something." His voice is urgent. "I did some digging after that first email. The one with the video."
"I said not now."
"The camera in your hotel room was installed the day before the gala." David grabs my arm. "By Vanessa Chase."
The world stops.
"What?"
"Vanessa rented the room next to yours under a fake name. Security footage shows her picking your lock and installing the camera." David's face is grim. "Adrian, Vanessa set the whole thing up. She drugged Elena, guided her to your room, recorded everything, and has been blackmailing you ever since."
I turn slowly to look at Vanessa. She's watching me with a smile that's pure poison.
"Took you long enough to figure it out, darling." Her voice is different now. Colder. Real. "But it doesn't matter. You're mine now. And if you ever try to go back to my pathetic sister, I'll destroy you both." She holds up her phone, showing the video ready to send. "One button, Adrian. One button, and your empire burns."
My phone buzzes again. Another text from the unknown number: Look outside.
I turn to the window.
Elena is on the sidewalk, collapsed and crying. And surrounding her, hidden in the crowd, are five people with cameras. Professional cameras. Press badges.
All aimed at her.
Another text: Smile for the cameras, Mr. Wolfe. Your baby mama is about to become headline news. Unless you want to stop it—transfer $10 million to the account I sent you. You have three minutes. Or Elena Chase becomes famous for all the wrong reasons.
I stare at the message, at Elena crying on the sidewalk, at Vanessa smiling beside me.
And I realize I've been played from the very beginning.
This was never about blackmail.
It was about breaking both of us.
And it's working.