Page 46 of False Heir

“Look, Ade,” I began, pausing to sigh. “I’m just...worried about all of this. It’s not exactly how we pictured things going, is it?”

I should have started with an apology, but I didn’t even know what I would be apologizing for.

“Understatement of the year,” she quipped, but her smile was tight, forced. “We knew there would be challenges, but this...”

“Is a mess,” I finished for her. We sat in silence, the distance between us growing more profound than the space of the kitchen table.

“Tristan, if you have doubts...” Adriana’s voice trailed off as she fidgeted with the hem of her robe.

“About us?” I interjected, sharper than intended. “No, that’s not it.”

“Then what? You can tell me.” There was a plea in her voice that tugged at my conscience.

“Let’s just focus on today,” I deflected, rising from my seat. “We need to stay sharp, keep an eye out for any moves my father might make.”

“Always deflecting,” she murmured, more to herself than to me as she stood to clear the table. Her movements were mechanical, her usual grace replaced by tension that stiffened her shoulders and pressed her lips into a thin line.

“Adriana—“ I started, but the words lodged in my throat, heavy with unvoiced fears.

“Save it, Tristan,” she cut me off, keeping her back to me. “We have bigger problems than whatever cold feet you’re having.”

“Adriana, come on,” I pleaded, taking a step toward her. “Don’t do this—don’t push me away.”

She turned then, her dark eyes meeting mine, and I saw the hurt she tried to mask. “I’m not pushing you away. You’re already halfway out the door, aren’t you?” she said. “You always are whenever…whenever things don’t go your way.”

“That’s not fucking fair and you know it.”

She flinched as if I had physically struck her. Gritting her teeth, she looked away from me, a silent tear sliding down her cheek. “Maybe it’s not...but it feels like the truth.”

We stood there, frozen in the middle of the kitchen, a million words hanging between us yet none found their way out. The silence was harsh, cutting into our already frayed nerves.

“Adriana,” I finally whispered, reaching out to her.

“No,” she shook her head and stepped back, avoiding my touch. “We need to focus on the situation at hand. Your father, my father...we’ll deal with us later.”

Her words were a punch in my gut, but she was right. We needed to stay focused, stay united. Our personal issues had no place in this war that was threatening to engulf our lives.

Our children’s lives.

“I love you, Adriana,” I said softly.

She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as she looked at me. “Okay. And?”

Chapter Eighteen: Adriana

I needed to get out of there. The four walls of the safehouse townhouse felt like they were closing in on me, each ornate fixture and plush sofa a reminder of the twisted life I was entangled in. With every ticking second, Tristan’s presence in the room grew heavier, his silence louder than any argument we’d ever had.

“Adriana, just listen—“ He started, but I cut him off with a sharp wave of my hand.

“Save it, Tristan.” My voice was cool, unyielding as I eyed the box on the coffee table—a Pandora’s box of promises and lies. “I don’t need another dead-end bargain.”

He tried to close the gap between us, his movements deliberate, but I wasn’t having any of it. “Be reasonable,” he urged, his fingers wrapping around my arm with an unexpected gentleness that belied the steel in his touch.

“Reasonable?” I laughed, bitter and short. “That ship sailed the moment you dragged me into this mess.”

Tristan leaned in, his lips grazing mine in an attempt to soothe the storm brewing between us. For a fleeting second, I let myself drown in the familiarity of his kiss—tender and apologetic. But this wasn’t about a kiss, no matter how lovely.

And fuck, it was lovely.

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