“She was unstable.”
Adrian’s face twisted with disgust.
“No. Don’t you dare rewrite her to save yourself.”
Victor stepped forward.
“She was going to take you from me.”
“And so you killed her?”
The words shattered across the room.
Even Elena stopped smiling.
Victor stared at his son for a long moment.
Then, quietly:
“It wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”
The silence that followed was monstrous.
Adrian staggered back as if struck harder than before.
Victor continued, his voice low and terrible with memory.
“We fought. She threatened to leave. She said she’d make sure you never saw me again.” His eyes darkened. “I lost control.”
Adrian looked physically ill.
“You buried my mother and made me mourn her beside you.”
“I gave you a good life!” Victor snapped suddenly. “Everything you are is because of me!”
Adrian laughed—a broken, horrified sound.
“No,” he whispered. “Everything I am survived in spite of you.”
Behind them, Elena stood.
Her heels clicked softly against the floor.
“Adrian,” she said gently, “sit down. Please. Let’s think rationally—”
He rounded on her.
“You knew?”
She hesitated.
That was enough.
“You both knew,” Adrian said, voice hollow now.
Victor moved toward him.
“Listen to me carefully. We can fix this.”
Adrian stared at him in disbelief.
“Fix this?”
“You’re emotional. You’re not thinking clearly—”
“You murdered my mother.”
Victor’s face hardened.
“And if I had to choose again between losing her and losing you—”
He stopped.
Too late.
Adrian’s eyes widened in horror.
Because he understood then.
His father did not regret what he had done.
He regretted being discovered.
Adrian backed toward the door, shaking.
Victor took another step.
“Don’t walk out of here and destroy this family over one mistake.”
“One mistake,” Adrian repeated.
