Chapter 13: The Past He Can’t Escape

The air in the studio was thick with unspoken words.

Olivia's heart pounded as she processed the weight of Adrian's confession—not in words, but in music.

She had spent so much time assuming the worst about him. But now, sitting in front of him, she realized that she had only seen fragments of the truth.

She leaned forward. "Tell me what happened."

Adrian exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "It doesn't matter."

"It does," she pressed. "If you want me to trust you, then tell me the full story."

His jaw tightened, but something in her voice must have reached him because, after a long pause, he spoke.

"Her name was Emilia."

Olivia's stomach twisted. She had heard that name before—whispers in the industry about a love story that had ended in disaster.

"We were together before I became famous," Adrian continued. "She was there when I was playing in small clubs, when I barely had enough to pay rent."

There was something distant in his voice, as if he was seeing another version of himself.

"When my career took off, everything changed. I was constantly on the road, in the studio, surrounded by people who only cared about my success. I started to lose sight of what mattered."

Olivia's throat tightened. "And Emilia?"

He hesitated, then said, "I hurt her. I let the fame get to me. She believed in me when no one else did, and I—" He broke off, his expression darkening. "I betrayed that trust."

Her mind raced. There were rumors—whispers of an affair, of Emilia walking away without looking back.

"Did you cheat on her?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze snapped to hers, sharp and unflinching. "No. But I might as well have."

The words sent a shiver down her spine.

"I let people use me. Let the industry control me. And in the end, she couldn't take it anymore." He swallowed hard. "She left. And I didn't stop her."

Silence stretched between them.

Olivia had spent so much time distrusting him, convinced he was just another arrogant celebrity. But now, she saw the truth.

He wasn't just some playboy musician. He was a man haunted by his past, by the choices that had cost him someone he loved.

And she hated how much she understood that feeling.

She cleared her throat. "Why are you telling me this?"

Adrian studied her, something unreadable in his gaze. "Because I don't want you to look at me the way she did when she walked away."

Her breath caught.

This was dangerous. This was getting too personal.

But as she looked at him—at the cracks in his carefully built armor—she knew one thing for sure.

The line between their fake relationship and something real was beginning to blur.

And she wasn't sure she could stop it.