She found him in his study, hours after the gala ended, after she'd smiled and danced and pretended her world hadn't shattered.
"Nancy." Adrian looked up from his laptop, smiling. "I thought you'd gone home. I was just planning our trip—"
"You're sick."
The smile vanished. "What?"
"Hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. Genetic. Your father, your grandfather, all the Thorne men dead before fifty." Nancy threw the folder on his desk, pages scattering. "How long have you known?"
Adrian went very still. "Where did you get that?"
"Dr. Voss. Sonia's puppet, apparently. He wanted me to know what you were hiding." Nancy's voice broke. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because it's not relevant—"
"Not relevant?" Nancy laughed, hysterical. "You're planning trips, talking about forever, making me fall in love with you, and you're dying ?"
"I'm not dying." Adrian stood, coming around the desk. "I'm managing. There's treatment, surgery, options—"
"How long?"
"Nancy—"
"How long , Adrian?"
He closed his eyes. "Ten years. Maybe fifteen, with the new procedures. But Nancy, listen—"
"Fifteen years." The number echoed in her head. "I'm twenty-six. That makes me forty-one when you—when we—" She couldn't finish.
"When we what? Run out of time?" Adrian caught her hands, desperate. "I know it's not fair. I know I should have told you. But I couldn't bear to see you look at me the way you're looking at me now. Like I'm already gone."
"How am I supposed to look at you?" Nancy pulled away. "You built a future you knew was impossible. You let me dream—"
"Because the dreams are real!" Adrian's voice cracked. "Yes, I have a condition. Yes, my time might be limited. But Nancy, everyone's time is limited. My father had forty-five years. He filled them with love and work and meaning. I planned to do the same—with you."
"Without telling me the truth."
"Without burdening you with fear." Adrian reached for her, then let his hand fall. "I watched my mother waste away caring for my father. She loved him so much that his death destroyed her. I won't do that to you. I won't let my potential future steal your present."
Nancy stared at him—this impossible, infuriating, wonderful man who'd tried to love her enough for a lifetime in whatever time he had.
"You idiot," she whispered. "You absolute idiot."
"Nancy—"
"You think love is about protection? About noble sacrifices?" She stepped closer, tears streaming. "Love is about showing up. All of it. The fear, the pain, the uncertainty. You don't get to decide what I can handle, Adrian. That's not your choice."
She took his face in her hands, forcing him to meet her eyes.
"I love you. The sick parts, the healthy parts, the arrogant parts, the kind parts. I love you for fifteen years or fifty, for a lifetime or a moment. But I love you honestly . No more secrets. No more protection. Just us, together, whatever comes."
Adrian's composure shattered. He pulled her close, burying his face in her hair, his shoulders shaking.
"I was so scared," he admitted, raw and vulnerable. "Scared you'd leave. Scared you'd stay out of pity. Scared I was being selfish, wanting you when I can't promise—"
"Shh." Nancy held him tight. "We promise what we can. Today. Tomorrow. The next day. That's enough. That's always been enough."
They stood there, in the wreckage of secrets, building something stronger from the pieces. Love, Nancy realized, wasn't about guarantees. It was about choosing each other, every day, despite the fear.
Especially because of it.