Then came the accident. I was the one drunk, driving, colliding with his car. He was declared brain dead for what happened. He didn’t survive… and I paid everyone to hide the fact that I was the one driving.
I can still see Seraphina’s face when they told her he was gone. She broke in front of me. She screamed, cried, begged the heavens. And I—selfish as I was—stepped into the gap his death left.
I comforted her. I offered her stability. I told myself it was love, told myself that I had finally won against Adrian, that he had always taken what he wanted and this time, fate had chosen me instead.
And she stayed. She gave me her years, her devotion, her warmth. For five years, she was by my side. And yet… when Helena came back into my life, I thought my heart still belonged to her. I thought it was Helena who held the key. But now…
Now as I knelt before the unrecognizable remains of Seraphina, as the DNA confirmed what my eyes refused to see, I felt something crack inside me. A weight crushing my chest, a pain I could not name. My heart ached—Adrian’s heart, beating inside me, mourning the woman he truly loved.
Or was it me? Was it Dominic, not Adrian, who couldn’t stop crying her name?