CHAPTER 89 — THE NAME THAT REFUSED TO FADE
The night was unnaturally quiet.
Elena noticed it the moment she stepped into the corridor outside Adrian's private office. The mansion, usually alive with subtle movement—security rotations, distant footsteps, the soft hum of systems working beneath the walls—felt paused, as though it were holding its breath.
She slowed her steps.
Something was wrong.
Adrian's door was ajar.
That alone was enough to set her instincts on edge. He never left it that way—not when matters were unfinished, not when the world around them was tightening inch by inch.
She pushed the door open.
Adrian stood near the desk, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, one hand braced against the dark wood as he stared down at a single document illuminated by the desk lamp. His posture was rigid, his shoulders tight in a way Elena had learned to recognize.
This wasn't calculation.
This was restraint.
"You're still awake," she said quietly.
