Adrian waited beneath my building, motionless under a black umbrella like some modern art installation.

I spotted him through the rain curtain, maybe thirty feet away.


I froze, unwilling to move closer.

He saw me and approached, stopping just out of arm's reach. Rain streamed down my face, cold as heartbreak.

"Ready to face reality yet?" His voice came muffled through the downpour, distorted and strange.


I stared at him through rain-blurred eyes. "You said you'd always remember my sacrifice. Is this your idea of gratitude?"

"What did you expect?" He actually smiled—a cruel twist of lips in the dim light. "Something different?"


My rain-soaked brain must be malfunctioning to even ask such a question.

Of course he could treat me this way. His status and wealth could grind me to dust without effort.

I had nothing—no powerful family, no wealth to shield me, not even a friend to stand in my corner.

He could crush me on a whim, smear my name, fabricate whatever crimes suited his purpose.

I just never thought he'd be cruel enough to cut off every escape route.

He stepped closer, extending his umbrella over me. The drumming rain suddenly muted, creating an intimate bubble with just us two.

In the shadows, his cold fingers brushed my cheek. "This is what happens when you try to walk away from me," he murmured.

"What do you want from me?" My voice cracked. "If you won't let me go, is death my only option?"

I dreamed of warmth that night.

In my dream, Mom held me close, patting my back, whispering comfort like she used to. "Don't cry, baby."

I sniffled against her shoulder. "Mom, I'm so tired."

"Where does it hurt?" she asked, all maternal concern.

"My hands, my head, everything hurts…" I whispered. "But mostly my heart."

"Mom, I can't do this anymore. I'm all alone. The one person I trusted threw me away for someone else. Can I just… come be with you instead?"

She just held me tighter, silent.

And I knew then it was just a dream, because even she had no answers for me.

Then I woke up.

I blinked at an unfamiliar ceiling, water stains spreading across it like continents on a strange map.

As reality filtered back, I realized with horror that I was in Adrian's arms and tried to pull away.

He jerked, instinctively tightening his hold before meeting my empty stare. Something in my eyes made him let go.

Why was he in my apartment?

I scrambled backward like a cornered animal, pressing myself against the footboard, knees drawn to chest.

The room was dark. I had no idea what time it was. His mere presence made the air too thick to breathe.

"Get out," I rasped.

Maybe darkness softened his edges—he seemed less the corporate shark now. He sighed. "What do you really want, Clara?"

What did I want? The question seemed absurd.

I just wanted to live my life in peace, but he wouldn't allow even that.

"What about you, Adrian?" I countered. "What do you want from me?"

He sat on the bed's edge, moonlight silhouetting him into something larger than life. He watched me in silence.

I dropped my gaze to the unfamiliar bedspread. "What more could you possibly want? I have nothing left to give."

"Don't you want another cafe?" Something almost vulnerable flickered in his voice.

"Adrian," I laughed hollowly, "I never wanted your charity. The moment you made me take the fall, I knew my days as a cafe owner were over."

"Do you hate me, Clara?"

The question blindsided me. Of all things between us, this seemed the least important.

But I answered anyway.

"I was grateful to you once, Adrian. Not for your money or your status. Just because you seemed to understand my coffee."

"My first year was rough—nearly went under. One rainy day, you were my only customer. I tried a new bean and extended the caramel notes by seven seconds. You were the only one who ever noticed. You set down your cup and asked if I'd changed beans or tweaked my roasting process."