Chapter 7 The Video That Ruined My Life

Nora's POV

After the call with Julian ended, Adrian didn't mention him again.

The next afternoon, his assistant delivered my luggage to Adrian's Manhattan home.

I had two suitcases and a cardboard box of architectural models.

Even so, when I stood at the foot of the stairs, I couldn't help asking, "Which way is the guest room?"

Adrian led me upstairs.

The master bedroom was at the end of the hallway. He opened the door beside it.

The closet had been cleared out, and a desk had been placed by the window.

"If you need anything, ask the housekeeper."

"This is more than enough."

I pushed my suitcases against the wall.

"Thank you."

His gaze moved from my luggage to my face.

"Are you going to thank me every time you use something in this house?"

I blinked.

Everything here belonged to him.

I was only moving in because of our marriage agreement.

Adrian placed a key card on the desk.

"You can use the study, the kitchen, and the workspace downstairs."

"Even the drafting table in your study?"

"Of course."

He paused.

"This is your home, too. You don't have to ask permission for things like that anymore."

Then he left.

I stood there, staring at the row of empty hangers in the closet.

My chest tightened.

Julian had given me an apartment and a credit card.

But in the three years I'd lived there, I'd never truly felt that the place belonged to me.

The following day, I took my transcript and appeal documents to the university.

There was still no decision on the Milan program review. My advisor asked me to submit additional proof of funds.

After finishing the paperwork, I stepped outside.

A familiar black car was parked at the curb.

Julian was leaning against it.

I turned to walk the other way.

He quickly stepped into my path.

"So now that you've married Adrian, you won't even talk to me?"

"We have nothing to talk about."

"You've known him for what, a few days? You suddenly get married, and I'm supposed to believe it isn't about making me regret losing you?"

"You think far too much of yourself."

His expression darkened.

"You really think the Vale family will accept you? Just wait until they find out you grew up in foster care and spent four years secretly dating me--"

"Then they'll also find out you kept telling me to wait while you were planning to marry someone else."

I looked him in the eye.

"I'm not the one who should be embarrassed."

Julian looked genuinely taken aback.

My chest still hurt.

But I wasn't going to explain myself.

"Nora, don't mistake an impulsive decision for a fresh start."

He reached for me.

I immediately stepped back.

"Adrian just needs a wife to keep his grandfather happy. He can't give you what you want."

"At least he told me what he needed from the beginning."

"And what happens when he doesn't need you anymore?"

I tightened my grip on my document folder.

"Then we'll separate according to our agreement."

Julian stared at me.

"But even if Adrian and I get divorced someday, I'm not coming back to you."

His expression finally changed.

I walked around him and headed toward the university gates.

"Don't forget, Nora," he called after me. "I know your past better than he does."

I stopped for half a second.

But I didn't turn around.

That evening, I was in Adrian's study, organizing my Milan application materials.

His drafting table was even wider than the one in my university studio.

I spread out my drawings, then worried about scratching the surface and slipped two layers of protective paper underneath them.

"Are you planning to put it in a museum?"

I turned.

Adrian was standing beside the table.

"It's walnut. It scratches easily."

"It's a desk. You're supposed to use it."

He leaned over my shoulder from behind and switched on the drafting lamp.

His warm breath brushed my ear.

My pencil stopped moving.

"You can adjust the brightness here."

"Got it."

He noticed me stiffen and quickly straightened.

"How's the paperwork coming along?"

"I still need to submit my proof of funds. I can do that tomorrow."

"Do you need me to--"

"No."

The answer came out too quickly.

I added, "The university just needs bank documents. I can handle it."

Adrian watched me for two seconds.

"All right."

He picked up my empty coffee cup and closed the door behind him.

The room fell quiet again.

I looked down at my drawings.

Only then did I realize my pencil hadn't touched the paper once since he'd leaned over me.

I'd been nervous when he came close.

But I hadn't wanted to move away.

The thought made my ears grow warm.

Then Julian's words came back to me.

I know your past better than he does.

Adrian really didn't know.

He didn't know why I hated closed doors.

Why I always stood near the exit in elevators.

Or what had happened during my first year at university.

My phone vibrated.

An unknown number.

A video was attached.

Withdraw the complaint you filed with Mercer Group's HR department. And don't try to reopen the investigation into what happened four years ago.

Otherwise, this video goes online tomorrow.

The video started playing automatically.

A dimly lit storage room appeared on the screen.

I was nineteen again.

Someone shoved me to the floor beside a stack of cardboard boxes.

My jacket was pulled off.

Two buttons on my shirt popped open.

I curled into the corner, wrapping my arms tightly around myself.

Someone laughed behind the camera.

"A foster kid living off scholarships and handouts? Who does she think she is, making Noah look bad?"

My stomach clenched.

The footage shook violently.

Then Mia's voice came from right beside the camera.

"Look up."

I didn't.

A second later, they shoved me into the old wooden chest in the corner.

Just before the lid came down, I saw Mia's face.

Then everything went black.

My sobs came through the phone.

"Let me out... Please, let me out..."

The phone slipped from my hand.

The walls of the study seemed to close in.

My breathing turned quick and shallow.

The darkness inside that chest came rushing back.

I bent down to pick up my phone.

My hands were shaking so badly that I missed it twice.

The door suddenly swung open.

"Nora?"

Adrian hurried inside.

I shut off the video almost on instinct and turned my phone facedown on the carpet.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

He crouched in front of me.

When he started to raise his hand, I flinched away.

He stopped.

His hand hung in the air for a moment.

Then he lowered it without touching me.

"You don't look okay."

"Maybe it's the concussion."

I lowered my head.

"I'm a little dizzy."

Even my voice was shaking.

Adrian glanced at the phone on the floor.

His expression hardened.

"I don't believe this is just dizziness."

My fingers slowly curled into my palms.

He watched me for several seconds.

His jaw tightened, as though he wanted to demand an explanation.

But in the end, he stood.

"I'll have a doctor come over."

"No."

I grabbed his sleeve without thinking.

Then immediately let go.

"I just need to rest."

He didn't agree right away.

"Nora, if someone's threatening you, I need to know."

His voice was much more serious now.

I looked up at him.

He was clearly holding back his anger.

But he still hadn't touched my phone.

After a few seconds, he handed me a glass of water.

"If you're not ready to tell me, I won't force you. Not right now."

I nodded.

But I didn't turn my phone over.

Back in my room, I locked the door.

It took a long time before I could bring myself to open the message again.

I couldn't delete it.

I saved the number, the threats, and the original video in an encrypted folder.

My fingers wouldn't stop shaking.

But I still couldn't bring myself to give Adrian the video.

Not tonight.

Late that night, I lay in bed with the light on.

At 12:03 a.m., my phone lit up again.

Agree to keep quiet by tomorrow afternoon.

Another message followed immediately.

Otherwise, your new husband gets to see this video, too.