The man's name was Lucas Hale.
I learned it by accident—or so Adrian would have claimed.
Lucas appeared everywhere after the gala. Business luncheons. Art openings. Charity boards. Always polite. Always smiling. Always watching me like I was an opportunity he hadn't decided how to invest in yet.
"You're popular lately," I said one evening, scrolling through my phone while Adrian reviewed documents beside me.
"I'm not," he replied without looking up.
"You are by association," I corrected. "Your shadow has a fan club."
Adrian's pen paused for half a second.
Then resumed.
"If he bothers you, say so," he said calmly.
"I didn't say he bothers me."
Another silence.
The next day, Lucas didn't show up to the investor briefing.
By the end of the week, his company withdrew from a major partnership.
By Friday, his name disappeared from the guest list of an upcoming Cross Foundation event.
It was too clean to be coincidence.
I found Adrian in his office late that night, jacket off, sleeves rolled, city lights cutting sharp lines across his face.
"You removed him," I said.
He didn't look up. "Removed is a strong word."
"You dismantled his access," I replied. "People don't vanish from your world by accident."
Adrian set his pen down slowly.
"Lucas Hale violated compliance standards," he said. "That's all."
"That's not all," I said. "He flirted with me."
Adrian's jaw tightened.
"This isn't about you," he said.
I laughed softly. "Then why do I feel like the collateral?"
He finally looked at me then—eyes cold, expression unreadable.
"I protect what's within my sphere," he said. "You're part of that sphere."
"That's not protection," I said. "That's control."
He stood, stepping toward me, stopping just short of touching.
"Do you want him?" he asked.
The question landed harder than it should have.
"No," I said immediately.
Adrian exhaled—slow, measured.
"Then this conversation is pointless."
I shook my head. "You don't get to erase people from my life because it makes you uncomfortable."
"I didn't do it for comfort."
"Then why?"
For a moment, I thought he might actually answer.
Instead, he said, "He was a risk."
"To you?"
"To us," Adrian corrected.
The word slipped out before he could stop it.
Us.
Something shifted between us.
"I didn't ask you to do that," I said.
"I know," he replied.
"Then stop making decisions for me."
"I can't," he said quietly.
The honesty startled us both.
Adrian turned away, fingers gripping the edge of his desk.
"This arrangement only works if I'm in control," he continued. "The moment I lose that—"
"What?" I asked. "You lose the contract?"
He didn't answer.
I stepped closer. "Or you lose yourself?"
Silence.
The city hummed outside, indifferent to our standoff.
"I won't be isolated," I said. "Not even for you."
Adrian's shoulders stiffened.
"I didn't isolate you," he said.
"You narrowed my world," I replied. "Until only you were left."
He turned back to me then—eyes dark, something raw breaking through the precision.
"That wasn't the intention," he said.
"But it was the result."
Neither of us moved.
Neither of us spoke.
Because somewhere between sabotage and silence, the truth had become unavoidable:
Adrian Cross didn't eliminate Lucas Hale because he was a threat to the contract.
He eliminated him because he was a threat to the lie Adrian was telling himself.