In that moment, Eva finally saw the truth, Adrian Iverson was far from the kind man he pretended to be. His eyes, once soft with feigned affection, now burned with wounded pride. The mask of gentleness cracked, revealing something far uglier beneath: rage, the sense of entitlement, the kind of anger born not from love but from ownership.
He hadn't seen her as someone he wanted to tenderly care for, but rather something he wanted to own.
The realization struck her like a blow. All those uneasy feelings she had ignored, the strange pull in her stomach, the way his kindness always seemed too deliberate, it all finally clicked into place. The shiver that went through her bones made her blood turn cold.
She struggled to free herself from his deadly grip, but his fingers only tightened, bruising her skin until she could almost hear the faint crack of strain in her wrist.
