Chapter Nineteen
The apartment was unusually quiet the morning after Elena had discovered the hidden files. Every sound—the ticking clock, the hum of the refrigerator, the distant city traffic felt loud and intrusive, cutting through the heavy silence.
Elena sat on the edge of the bed, legs tucked beneath her, hands folded in her lap. Her gaze drifted past the window, across the city sprawling below, indifferent to her turmoil. She hadn't spoken since finding the files. Words felt useless. Dangerous, even. She didn't want to open a door that might never close.
Adrian stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, his figure dark against the morning light. His gray eyes, usually so commanding, were shadowed with thought and guilt. He wanted to speak, to break the silence—but every attempt died before it left his lips.
Finally, Elena broke it. Her voice was low, cautious, but sharp with hurt. "Why didn't you tell me?"
