Chapter 173

Adrian Valentine had just stepped off the plane when Evelyn Roland's call came through. His finger hovered over the screen for a fraction too long.

"Evelyn, what's left between us besides hatred?" His voice was gravelly with exhaustion.

On the other end, Evelyn stood by the crib, tracing her daughter's soft cheek. His accusation tightened around her chest like a vise.

"Tomorrow I'll release evidence of Isabella's contract killing." Her tone was eerily calm.

A tiny coo broke the silence.

Adrian's breath hitched. That infant sound shattered his carefully constructed walls like a blade.

"Is there a child with you?"

"Just the TV." She ended the call abruptly, tossing the phone onto the sofa.

Staring at the darkened screen, Adrian remembered the tiny bundle curled in the hospital corridor. Mechanically, he opened trending news—every tabloid showed paparazzi shots of him dragging Evelyn into a private room.

Victor Ashcroft's call interrupted. "Sir, shall we suppress the headlines?"

"Find who's behind this."

"The Langley media conglomerate broke the story."

Adrian dialed Isabella directly. Her chirpy greeting made his jaw clench.

"Adrian!"

"Lost your damn mind?" His laugh was icy. "Evelyn has proof you ordered a hit, yet you provoke her?"

Her voice trembled. "It wasn't me—"

"Victor traced the leak to your family." He hurled his phone across the room.

The floor lamp cast amber light over the unchanged living room. This time last year, Evelyn had curled on this very couch reading scripts, her hair spilling across his palm.

Memories flooded him—the flutter of her lashes when she stood on tiptoe to kiss him, the blush creeping up her ears as she whispered endearments, the faint teeth marks she left on his shoulder when angry.

Adrian downed a burning gulp of whiskey. The alcohol scorched his throat but couldn't extinguish the fire in his chest.

Evelyn had loved Alexander Durand. That truth burned fiercer than any liquor, charring him from the inside out.