Had I signed it? Had there been another page beneath the first? Had he forged it completely?
A thin, cold thread of realization slid through me.
Victor had not snapped on that mountain.
He had planned.
The room tilted.
Adrian stood and reached for the call button, but I caught his sleeve with my good hand.
“No,” I whispered. “Don’t call anyone. I’m fine.”
“You are not fine.”
“I need to understand.”
“You need to survive.”
“I need both.”
He looked at my hand gripping his sleeve. My fingers were bruised and swollen. I could barely hold on.
Slowly, he sat again.
“Victor has debts,” he said. “Private investments gone bad. A failed property acquisition in Miami. Loans through companies that do not advertise their interest rates. On paper, he still looks wealthy. In reality, he is balancing on a wire.”
“And Serena?”
“For now.”
I stared at him.
Adrian’s face remained calm, but his eyes did not. “If we move too quickly, he denies everything. He says you are traumatized and confused. He says the fall was an accident. He says your injuries affected your memory. He produces sympathy, lawyers, photographs of the grieving husband. People want simple stories, Elena. We need the truth to become heavier than his performance.”
His words settled inside me.
The truth had weight.
It needed gathering.
It needed patience.
It needed me alive.
I looked down at my stomach. “Then I’ll stay dead a little longer.”
Adrian did not respond immediately.
When he did, his voice was barely above a whisper.
“I am sorry.”
“For what?”
“For not finding you sooner.”
I turned my face toward the window again.
Outside, snow continued to fall, soft and relentless, covering tracks, smoothing sharp edges, making the whole world look innocent.
“My mother used to say regret is just love with nowhere to go,” I said.
Adrian inhaled slowly.
“She said that?”
I nodded.
He looked away.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then my baby moved.
It was faint, no more than a flutter beneath my palm, but it was there. My breath caught. Adrian saw my expression change and stood, alarmed.
“What is it?”
“He moved.”
