Page 4 of Cruel Hero

I look down at my plate. “I’m sorry, I just—”

“Hey, no need to apologize,” he interjects, reaching across to squeeze my hand reassuringly. “We all have our timelines. I’m just happy to spend time with you, whatever that looks like. I want you to be happy, and I think we could be great together. I know that you’re still not over your last relationship, but I’ll wait for you, Tiffany. You’re worth it.”

Lucas looks positively earnest and so fairytale perfect.

If someone can make me forgethim, it’s Lucas.

“Give me a few more weeks. I need a bit more time to get my head straight.”

He nods, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’ll wait.”

The rest of the dinner passes in a blur of light conversation and polite laughter. When the check arrives, Lucas insists on paying, and I don’t argue.

He drives me to my apartment in his shiny black Mustang and walks me to the door, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back. At the doorstep, he hesitates, his dark eyes searching mine for a moment before he leans in to press a soft, chaste kiss to my cheek. His lips linger just a fraction longer than necessary.

“Goodnight, Tiffany. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight,” I reply softly, forcing a smile as I step inside and close the door behind me. The moment it clicks shut, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. My apartment feels too quiet, too empty, and I lean against the door for a moment, closing my eyes.

With a sigh, I push myself away from the door and make my way to the living room, my heels clicking against the hardwood floor. I sink into the plush cushions of the sofa and stare at the blank television screen.

Every morning, I stand in front of my bedroom mirror, and a stranger stares back at me. The person in the reflection is broken, exhausted, and lost.

This person is not me; she is a mere shadow of who I used to be.

My mind drifts back to Adrien, as it always does, no matter how hard I try to push him away. His dark eyes, his sharp features, the way he carried himself with an air of quiet intensity—it’s all etched into my memory, refusing to fade. I can still hear his voice, low and steady, the way it would soften when he spoke to me, betraying a vulnerability he rarely showed anyone else.

Is he happy? Is he lonely? Does he miss me? Is he stewing in his quest for retribution?

I shake my head, trying to dispel the thoughts. It’s useless to dwell on him. He made his choice, and I made mine. But even as I tell myself this, a part of me clings to the hope that maybe, just maybe, things could have been different.

All I want is closure—for Adrien to follow through with his plan and put an end to any lingering hope inside of me. It’s time for me to move on and start anew, even if it means my uncle paying for his crimes and my family’s name being torn to pieces.

It’s well deserved, after all.

I get up and retreat to my bedroom, burrowing under the covers.

Giving Lucas a chance might help me break free from Adrien’s hold. I need to reclaim the person I was before he shattered me into a thousand jagged pieces.

With determination, I close my eyes, promising to make an effort with Lucas, unaware of what fate has in store for me.

That night, my uncle’s car veers off the road and crashes into a tree, ending his life and plunging mine into another whirlwind of chaos.

Chapter 3

Adrien

The smell of fresh ink and the crisp rustle of newspaper fills the air as I sit in the sleek, glass-walled office of Leroy Holdings’ French headquarters. Below, the heart of Paris pulses with life, blissfully unaware of the machinations unfolding high above them.

My fingers trace over the bold headlines announcing Dean Carter’s death, a man whose life had been as controversial as his sudden demise. Diane, my senior executive assistant, is engrossed in her phone, her eyes flicking over the reactions and speculations online.

“Anything interesting?” I ask.

The death of Dean Carter, a business tycoon, has sent shockwaves through the business world. The ink on today’s newspapers is still fresh, their pages filled with praises for his philanthropy and business acumen.

I can’t help but marvel at how death had polished his tainted legacy to a shine.

She shrugs. “It’s all business as usual. The shareholders of Carter Industries are in a frenzy, but that’s to be expected. Dean was the driving force behind the company for many years. Police are still investigating the car crash, but the Moroni family is good at covering their tracks. For now, everything is under control.”

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