Morning came too quickly.
The first thing Adrian noticed this time—
Was the headache.
Sharp.
Heavy.
Unfamiliar.
He sat up slowly, pressing his fingers against his temple as the room tilted slightly.
"…what the hell…"
His voice was rough.
Dry.
Wrong.
He blinked, trying to adjust to the light filtering through the curtains.
The room felt… strange.
Not physically.
Something else.
Like walking into a place where something had already happened—but no one told you what.
He looked down at himself.
Then around the room.
The bed.
The floor.
The untouched documents near the chair.
A faint frown formed.
Memory didn't come.
Not properly.
Just fragments.
Broken pieces that didn't fit together.
Drinks.
Elena.
The lounge.
And then—
Nothing.
His jaw tightened.
That alone was enough to irritate him.
He didn't forget things.
He didn't lose control.
Ever.
A knock sounded suddenly.
Loud.
Sharp.
Followed by another.
Then voices.
Excited.
Rushed.
Adrian frowned, already irritated. "Who is—"
The door swung open.
Flash.
Light burst into the room before his eyes could adjust.
Cameras.
Voices overlapping.
"Mr. Adrian—!"
"Sir, is it true—?"
"Who were you with last night—?"
His expression darkened instantly.
"What the hell is this?"
His voice cut through the noise—cold, controlled, dangerous.
The kind that usually made people stop.
But not this time.
Because they were looking around.
Searching.
Confused.
"There's no one here—"
"Where is she?"
"Check the bathroom—"
Adrian's irritation sharpened into something colder.
"Get out."
No one moved fast enough.
His gaze dropped slightly—to the nearest camera.
And that was all it took.
"Now."
Something in his tone finally hit.
The room shifted.
People stepped back.
Murmurs lowered.
But the confusion didn't leave their faces.
"There was supposed to be—"
"Didn't Elena say—"
Elena.
Adrian's eyes darkened.
"Out."
This time, they listened.
The room emptied slowly, reluctantly, whispers trailing behind them as the door shut.
Silence followed.
But it didn't feel the same as before.
Adrian sat there for a moment.
Still.
Then exhaled sharply.
"Damn it."
He swung his legs off the bed and stood, rolling his shoulders slightly like he was shaking something off.
Something unseen.
Something he didn't understand.
Then—
He paused.
That scent again.
Faint.
But there.
His brows furrowed.
He glanced down at himself, then slowly lifted his shirt slightly, bringing the fabric closer—
And inhaled.
There it was.
Clearer now.
Sweet.
Soft.
Not perfume.
Something else.
Something… warmer.
His expression shifted.
Not confusion this time.
Something more focused.
More deliberate.
"This isn't alcohol," he muttered.
His grip tightened slightly on the fabric before he dropped it.
His mind was already moving now.
Fast.
Connecting pieces.
Elena.
The drink.
The missing memory.
The media.
And someone else.
Someone who had been here.
Close enough that the scent still lingered.
His jaw clenched.
"Interesting."
Whatever happened last night—
It wasn't an accident.
And whoever she was—
He was going to find her.