Page 88 of False Heir

I saw the conflict play out across his face. He understood my resolve, knew that my presence could sway the tides in ways others might not predict. Yet, his protective instincts surged like a riptide, threatening to pull us both under.

“Damn it, Ade,” he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I want you safe, here, away from the crossfire.”

“Safe is an illusion in our world and you know that better than anyone.” My response was immediate, sharp with truth. “And you forget, Tristan—I don’t scare easy.”

His broad shoulders rose and fell with a heavy sigh.

“Okay,” he finally conceded, his voice rough with reluctance. “But we do this together. Every step, every decision—you’re by my side. There’s no way for me to talk you out of this, is there?”

“Tristan, you know as well as I do that these meetings are about more than just posturing and threats.” I stood my ground, feeling the weight of our family’s future pressing firmly on my shoulders. “The decisions made there will ripple through our lives. I need to be part of it.”

He paced before me, his movements controlled but revealing an undercurrent of agitation. “Your place isn’t on that battlefield, Adriana,” he countered, trying to mask the edge in his voice with a calm he clearly didn’t feel.

“Isn’t it?” I challenged, stepping closer to him. The morning sun filtered through the windows, casting a soft glow that did nothing to soften the steely resolve in my eyes. “I’m not just your…well, whatever I am, Tristan. I’m going to be a mother, and I’ll do whatever it takes to shield our children from the fallout of our world.”

“Damn it, Ade, it’s because you’re the mother of our children that you should stay away from the dangers that lurk there!” His voice rose, taut with the strain of a man torn between his heart’s desires and his mind’s logic.

“Exactly why I can’t,” I said, my tone laced with a passion that matched his own. “You think I can sit idly by while others decide our fate? Our babies’ fate?”

We were close now, almost toe to toe. The air around us seemed charged with electricity, with every breath we took amplifying the silent battle of wills taking place.

“Adriana,” he started, but I cut him off.

“Tristan, listen to me.” My hands found his chest, not to push him away but to forge a connection, to make him understand. “I am a partner in this life we’ve built, and I won’t be sidelined when everything we love is at stake.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, I saw the internal war play out over his features—the protector versus the partner. He grappled with the instinct to keep me locked away from the danger and the knowledge that I was more than capable of standing with him.

“Adriana, I—“ His words faltered as he looked down at me, his expression a mix of admiration and exasperation. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

“Good,” I replied, a small, defiant smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “It means I’m getting through to you.”

“More like driving a stake through my plans,” he muttered, though I caught the hint of a reluctant smile on his lips as well. “But I can see there’s no changing your mind.”

“There never is,” I said, then went back to the couch. God, I was so tired…

Tristan closed the distance between us with a few heavy steps. He dropped to the couch beside me, and without a word, wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. The embrace was tight, almost crushing in its intensity, as if he could shield me from the world’s evils through sheer force.

“I can’t lose you, Adriana,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. “You and the twins...you’re my everything.”

The raw honesty in his voice cracked something inside of me. For all our sparring, all the sharp edges we both wielded so deftly, this vulnerability was what bound us most deeply. Here, in the circle of his arms, I felt the layers of our lives together—the love, the fear, the indomitable will to protect what was ours.

He didn’t know it yet–but I was also going to do whatever it took not to lose him.

Even if that meant killing my own father.

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Tristan

She was so close. And she hadn’t pulled away.

The chaos of the city seemed a distant murmur against the silence in my apartment. I pulled Adriana closer on the couch, finding solace in her presence. My lips brushed hers, a gentle assurance amid the turmoil that constantly brewed outside these walls.

“Tristan,” she gasped out my name, in that way that always drove me crazy.

I kissed her again, this time with an urgency that mirrored the tightening grip I had on the reality we shared. My hand trailed up her arm, feeling the play of muscles beneath her skin, the heat of her blood rising to my touch. She leaned into me, her hands finding their way to the back of my neck, fingers pressing insistently, urging me on without a single word spoken.

“Ade,” I murmured against her mouth, tasting the name like a promise. A shudder ran through her as my hand wandered down her side, committing to memory the curve of her waist, the dip of her hip. With each caress, I stoked the fire within her, one that burned away any pretense of restraint we might have clung to before.

“Tristan,” she said again, her voice thick with everything unsaid, everything we knew but never voiced aloud. It was all there between us, in the press of her body to mine, in the fervent way our mouths moved together.

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