chapter Six

The villa was silent except for the rhythmic crash of waves against the rocky shore. The storm had passed, leaving behind a humid stillness that clung to Juniper's skin. The scent of rain lingered in the air, mixing with the faintest trace of salt from the ocean below. She stood in Adrian's office, her pulse hammering as she clutched the photograph she had found.

It was old, its edges curling, the colors slightly faded with time. But the image itself was unmistakable. The woman in the picture her mother, Caroline Hale—stood beside a man in a sharp suit. His face was half-hidden in shadows, but Juniper knew.

Her chest tightened as she traced the familiar curve of his jaw, the commanding presence even in the still frame.

Adrian.

The realization hit her like a slap.

The air in the room suddenly felt too thick, pressing in on her lungs as the implications settled in. How long had he known? How long had he kept this from her? And why?

The mahogany door creaked open.

Juniper turned sharply, gripping the photograph like a lifeline.

Adrian stood in the doorway, his tie loosened, the top buttons of his dress shirt undone. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, as if he'd raked his hands through it too many times. His expression was unreadable, but the flicker of something, guilt? Resignation? flickered behind his gaze.

"You went through my things," he said, his voice dangerously low.

Juniper's fingers curled around the photograph. "You knew my mother."

A muscle ticked in Adrian's jaw. His silence was answer enough.

Juniper swallowed, her pulse a drumbeat in her ears. "And you never thought to tell me?" Her voice wavered, her breath uneven. "You let me stand here begging you to save my nonprofit when all along, you were… what? Paying off a debt?"

Adrian exhaled sharply, stepping further into the room. The storm outside might have passed, but inside, another one was brewing.

"It wasn't like that," he said, his voice strained.

"Then explain it to me," she snapped, her fingers tightening around the photograph. "Because from where I'm standing, this looks like a billionaire playing God with my life."

His gaze darkened, but beneath his usual steel exterior, something cracked

Something raw, something real. "Your mother was remarkable," he said at last. "She believed in fighting corruption, in exposing the truth. And she paid the price for it."

Juniper's stomach twisted.

"She died in a car accident," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Adrian's silence was deafening.

A cold chill crept up her spine. Her fingers trembled against the photograph. "Didn't she?"

Adrian's lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't believe it was an accident."

Juniper's knees nearly buckled.

She gripped the edge of his mahogany desk, her mind spinning. "What the hell are you saying?"

Adrian ran a hand through his hair, his composure slipping further. "She was investigating a major corporate fraud, one that involved some of the most powerful men in the industry. She was going to blow the whistle. And then suddenly, her brakes failed."

Juniper's breath hitched. "You think someone had her killed?"

Adrian's voice was quiet, but the weight of his words crushed her. "I don't think," he said. "I know."

The room felt too small. The air too thin.

Her mother wasn't just gone. She had been taken.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, forcing the bile back down her throat. "And you were part of it, weren't you?"

Adrian's head snapped up, his eyes flashing. "No. I tried to warn her, to get her to back off. But Caroline Hale didn't scare easily. She wouldn't stop."

Juniper's world tilted.

Her mother had died for this.

For justice.

For truth.

And Adrian, he had known.

The betrayal cut deeper than she thought possible.

"And what?" Her voice was hoarse now, barely containing the emotions clawing at her throat. "You just stood by and let it happen?"

Adrian took a step closer, his expression dark with something between fury and regret. "Do you think I wanted this?" His voice cracked, rawer than she had ever heard it. "I've spent years trying to make it right. That's why I funded your nonprofit. I couldn't save her, but I could make sure her work lived on."

Juniper barely registered moving until her palm cracked against his cheek.

The sound echoed through the office.

Adrian didn't flinch.

He just stood there, his face turned slightly, his jaw tight, his breathing uneven.

"You don't get to decide how to atone," she seethed, her hand still stinging from the impact. "You don't get to manipulate my life like some twisted redemption arc."

Adrian exhaled slowly, steadying himself. "I never meant to manipulate you."

"But you did." Juniper's voice trembled. "You let me believe I was fighting for this on my own. That my work, my passion was mine. But it was just another move on your billionaire chessboard."

Adrian's eyes darkened, but before he could respond, the distant hum of an engine shattered the silence.

Juniper turned toward the window.

A boat was pulling up to the dock.

She looked back at Adrian. His face was unreadable again, cold and distant, the walls slamming back into place.

"You should go," he said.

Juniper's stomach dropped. "What?"

Adrian stepped back, his expression hardening. "The boat's early. Take it. Leave."

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Just like that? After everything?"

Adrian's jaw clenched. "It's for the best."

Fury ignited inside her, burning away the last remnants of her heartbreak. "You do this, and you prove me right," she said, stepping closer. "You prove that you never saw me as anything more than a debt to be repaid."

Adrian's eyes flashed with something unreadable.

But he still didn't speak.

Juniper shook her head, every fiber of her being screaming at her to stay, to fight. But she wouldn't beg. Not again.

"Coward," she whispered.

Then she turned, heart pounding, and walked out the door.

The dock was slick beneath her feet as she approached the boat, her pulse roaring in her ears. The waves crashed violently against the wooden posts, mirroring the storm inside her.

The captain barely glanced at her as she stepped on board, but before she could turn back, one final sound shattered the night.

A gunshot.

Juniper's breath caught.

She spun around, her heart stopping as she saw Adrian standing at the edge of the dock—his body tense, his eyes burning into hers.

And behind him, from the shadows of the villa, a figure crumpled to the ground.

Nathaniel Blackwood.

The man who had orchestrated it all.

Dead.

Adrian's hand was still raised, the gun in his grip smoking.

Juniper's breath came fast and sharp.

Their eyes met across the dark water.

"Now you know," Adrian said softly, before the boat pulled away.