Emma’s POV

The silence in the penthouse had become a living thing, a predator with unseen teeth, gnawing at the edges of the fragile peace Adrian and I had built. Victoria Sterling’s words, sharp shards of glass flung from a venomous tongue, had embedded themselves deep within me, festering beneath my skin despite Adrian’s earnest reassurances. “Temporary arrangements.” “Men like Adrian, they always return to their own kind.” 1 They echoed in the cavernous spaces of my mind, drowning out the tender promises Adrian had whispered, twisting every loving glance into a calculated performance.