The Blake Corporation's glass towers glittered beneath the fading light of evening, reflecting the city skyline like a wall of fire. Most employees had already gone home, but the top floor remained alive, its golden lights spilling into the night.
Elena stood before the expansive window in Adrian's office, her gaze cast over the horizon. From this height, the city seemed small, powerless—just as she wanted her enemies to appear when she was finished with them.
Her reflection in the glass looked sharper than she remembered. No longer meek, no longer fragile. The steel in her eyes reminded her that she was no longer the same Elena who had been betrayed and broken.
Behind her, the sound of papers being shuffled ceased. She didn't have to turn to know Adrian was watching her.
"You handled yourself well today," his deep voice broke the silence.
Elena's lips curved faintly. "I didn't realize you were grading me."
"I wasn't." His footsteps drew closer, each measured and deliberate. "But others were."
She finally turned, meeting his gaze head-on. Adrian Blake stood tall, his dark suit tailored to perfection, every line of him exuding authority. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—the eyes that had unsettled her since the day she married him—were sharp, probing, dangerous.
"You've changed."
The words hung in the air like smoke.
Elena tilted her head, feigning ignorance. "Changed? In what way?"
"You speak differently. You carry yourself differently." His gaze flicked to her posture, her tone, her steady eyes. "You're not the woman I married."
Her chest tightened, but she smirked softly. "Should I apologize for improving?"
Adrian's jaw tightened, though his voice remained calm. "Improvement doesn't happen overnight. Not like this."
He stepped closer, his presence filling the room, heavy and suffocating.
"Tell me, Elena," he said, his tone low, deliberate, "what game are you playing?"
The words struck like an arrow, but Elena refused to flinch. Instead, she let out a soft laugh, the sound smooth and unhurried.
"Why must it be a game?" she asked. "Maybe you just never bothered to notice me before."
For the first time, something flickered in his eyes—amusement, irritation, intrigue, she couldn't tell.
He leaned down slightly, his voice dropping to a murmur that slid over her skin like a blade. "Don't play games with me."
Her heart pounded, but she met his warning with a smirk, lifting her chin. "And what if I do?"
Silence crackled between them, alive with tension.
Adrian's gaze darkened, his lips curving into the faintest ghost of a smile. It wasn't warmth—it was the sharp edge of a challenge.
"Then you'd better be prepared to lose."
The warning should have rattled her. In her past life, it would have left her trembling, desperate to please him.
But this time, Elena's lips curved wider, her eyes gleaming with defiance. "I don't lose, Adrian. Not anymore."
The room stilled. For a heartbeat, even the air seemed to hesitate.
Adrian studied her, his silence heavier than words. And then, slowly, he stepped back, slipping his hands into his pockets, his mask of calm settling over him once more.
"Careful, Elena," he said softly, his voice edged with something unreadable. "I find myself almost… intrigued. But intrigue fades quickly. Don't test me too far."
With that, he turned toward his desk, signaling the end of the conversation.
But Elena knew better. This wasn't the end. This was the beginning of something far more dangerous.
The drive home was quiet. Adrian sat beside her, his expression unreadable as always, his gaze fixed on the passing city lights. Elena kept her eyes forward, her mind racing.
She could feel it—the shift between them. Adrian no longer dismissed her. He no longer overlooked her. Instead, he was watching, waiting, circling her like a predator testing its prey.
Good. Let him watch. Let him wonder. The more he focused on her, the less room her enemies would have to strike unnoticed.
When they arrived at the estate, Adrian dismissed the driver and strode inside without waiting for her. Elena followed at her own pace, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor.
She paused in the grand hallway, her gaze flicking to the portraits lining the walls. The Blake family's legacy stared down at her—men and women who had ruled industries, built empires, crushed opponents.
Adrian belonged here. He had inherited their strength, their ruthlessness.
And now, so did she.
Her lips curved faintly. If I can stand beside him, none of them will dare touch me.
She was still musing when Adrian's voice drifted from the study. "Elena."
She stepped in. He stood behind his desk, glass in hand, the amber liquid catching the dim light. His tie was loosened, his posture deceptively relaxed. But his eyes—always his eyes—remained sharp.
"Why are you really here?" he asked suddenly.
The question caught her off guard. "What do you mean?"
"You don't care for me. That much is clear." His tone was matter-of-fact, not accusatory. "So why stay? Why play the role of wife now, when before you couldn't stand it?"
Her throat tightened, but she forced herself to smile faintly. "Is it so hard to believe I've decided to try?"
Adrian's lips curved, but not in amusement. "Yes."
The single word landed heavy, final.
He took a slow sip of his drink, then set the glass down, his gaze never leaving her.
"I'll give you one warning, Elena." His voice was low, deliberate, every syllable laced with authority. "Whatever game you think you're playing, remember this: I don't tolerate betrayal. Not from my enemies. Not from my wife."
Elena's heart pounded, but she refused to back down.
"Then it's a good thing I'm not your enemy," she said smoothly.
The silence stretched, thick and taut, until Adrian finally chuckled softly—a sound so rare it made her breath catch.
"Not yet," he murmured.
He dismissed her with a flick of his hand, turning back to his desk. But Elena left the study with her pulse racing, her thoughts a whirlwind.
Adrian Blake was suspicious. Intrigued. Dangerous.
And for the first time, she realized her greatest challenge might not be Naomi, Daniel, or Clara.
It might be her husband.