Page 80 of Goldflame

Later, as I dress in a simple blouse and jeans that are exactly my size, nervous energy prickles along my spine. In a few minutes, I’ll go downstairs. I’ll see Adrian again.

Adrian, who I spent weeks mourning. Whose blood dried beneath my fingernails as I screamed for help that night. Whose absence carved a hole in me. Whose memory haunted my captivity as I slowly realized how much I’d misunderstood him.

For weeks I’ve replayed our decade together, examining each moment under a new light. And now he’shere, alive, and so very different. More open. More of the way I always wished he would be.

What if it’s temporary? What if, once we’ve dealt with Julian and Lady Harrow, he reverts back to the man he was? What if his resurrection is just another trap I’m walking into willingly because I’m so desperate to be loved?

Or worse—what if he never really cared for me at all? What if his kinder treatment was simply because he wasn’t as monstrous as Julian, not because he felt anything deeply? He still cheated on me repeatedly. His bedroom skills had to come from somewhere, and it certainly wasn’t from our encounters. We only had sex every few months because he was always “busy” with “work.”

Movement in the garden below catches my eye. I drift toward the window. The glass is cool against my palms as I press closer, drinking in the scene unfolding on the manicured lawn.

Lorenzo chases Roby across the grass, both of them laughing under the soft morning light. Roby’s small legs pump furiously as he clutches a ball to his chest. He’s so adorable and innocent.

And there, standing at the edge of the garden path...

Adrian.

My breath catches. He stands perfectly straight in a crisp charcoal suit, looking every inch the businessman—the Harrow heir—despite everything that’s changed. Some things will never change, I guess. Like Adrian needing to wear suits twenty-four seven. The sight tugsan unexpected smile from me. The death of Adrian Harrow hasn’t killed his fashion sense.

Roby spots him and changes direction, racing toward Adrian with the reckless abandon only children have. He hurls the ball—a wild, uncoordinated throw that somehow Adrian catches. Even from here, I can see the momentary surprise on Adrian’s face, as if he’s been handed an alien artifact and has no idea what to do.

For a heartbeat, he simply holds the ball, examining it with the same analytical focus he applied to everything at the Harrow penthouse. Then, with precision, he tosses it back to Roby.

The boy’s delighted shriek carries through the glass. He scoops up the ball and darts away, clearly expecting to be chased. Adrian hesitates, looking at Lorenzo with a slight head tilt.

I laugh. I think this is the first time I’ve seen Adrian not know what to do.

Lorenzo grins and makes a sweeping gesture, as if to say, “Go on.”

Something shifts in Adrian’s posture. His shoulders loosen as he takes one tentative step forward, then another. Suddenly, he’s moving across the lawn with surprising speed, playfully lunging for Roby who squeals and spins away.

My breath catches.

What a beautiful moment.

It’s like I’m seeing something from another life—one where Adrian Harrow plays with children in sunlit gardens instead of moving the chess pieces of a criminalempire. He’s still so awkward, his stiffness revealing how play was discouraged when he was a child, but there’s an unmistakable tenderness in how he finally catches Roby, lifting him high while the boy giggles.

My chest tightens with an emotion I can’t name. This man—so different from the cold, detached person who shared my bed for a decade—would make a good father. Nothing like Lucian with his cruelty. I can see it in the careful way Adrian holds Roby, like the boy is important and might break if handled too roughly.

Adrian would be a good father to my children.

Heat floods my face.What the hell am I thinking?I turn sharply from the window, pressing my back against the wall as if I can escape my own thoughts.

What’s wrong with me? Just because he’s shown a few moments of genuine humanity doesn’t erase the years of secrets, and the countless lies.

He’s been plotting against the Consortium and I wasn’t aware at all. How long has he maintained this double life? In so many ways, he’s a stranger—a man wearing the face of someone I thought I knew.

And yet...

And yet I feel safer with him than I ever felt with Julian.

Julian. His name curdles in my mind like spoiled milk. The asshole sold me. After everything we shared, everything we were to each other, he drugged me and made me think he was finally seeing the truth, only to package me up for someone else.

Does he think this will break me? Or is it simply thelast desperate act of a man becoming the monster he always feared he would be?

I pull myself away from these circular thoughts, determined not to let them consume me. I can do that later. Right now, I’m starving.

With one last glance in the mirror to ensure I look more composed than I feel, I head for the door.

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