Sofia froze.
The moment she heard his voice—low, calm, unmistakably Adam—something inside her splintered.
He was here. Talking to his father.
Her breath caught, and she instinctively pressed her back against the cold hallway wall, her fingers curling into the edge of the plaster like it could anchor her. She hadn't meant to listen. She didn't want to. But her feet refused to move, and her heart was pounding too loud for her to ignore it.
She knew that voice like a memory she could never erase. It carried with it the ache of every night she had waited, the hope she had buried, and the love she had tried so hard to silence.
He didn't come for her.
It was business. Just business.
And yet, some foolish part of her—some fragile, traitorous part—had dared to hope.
She bit her lip, her throat tightening as she listened to the hum of their conversation. She couldn't hear the words clearly, but it didn't matter. He hadn't asked for her. Hadn't sought her out. Hadn't said her name.
