8. Eliana
Eliana
When I opened my eyes, the first thing I heard was the steady beep of a monitor beside me.
I stared at the unfamiliar ceiling. The thoughts came in slow and heavy. My head still throbbed, the pain settling behind my temples like something determined not to let me forget it was there. The sharp smell of antiseptic made my stomach twist. It seemed like I was back in the hospital.
I tried to move, but even that seemed to make the room tilt slightly.
The door opened. My father's worried face appeared in the doorway.
"Dad?"
He looked relieved when he saw my eyes open. "You're awake."
He crossed the room quickly, setting his things on the chair beside the bed. I tried to sit up, but he immediately placed a hand on my shoulder. "Eli, dear, don't get up. Rest."
"I'm okay. What happened?" I murmured, though my voice sounded weaker than I wanted it to.
He gave me the look only a father could give when he knew I was lying.
"You fainted and your neighbor found you outside your building and called for help." His voice softened as he pulled the chair closer to my bed. "The doctor said you probably lost consciousness because of exhaustion, but they're running a few tests just to be sure."
I closed my eyes for a moment. The memory came back in fragments.
Adrian's car. The lilies. His voice.
Then that strange flash of laughter.
I opened my eyes again. "How long have I been here?"
"Since last night." My father sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Eli, you've been pushing yourself too hard. You need to sleep properly. Have you been pulling all-nighters again?"
I hesitated, but decided to say the truth. "Sometimes."
"Sometimes?" He raised an eyebrow. “Dear, this is not the first time this has happened. You do know a few years ago…”
I looked down at my hands. "I can handle it, Dad."
"That's what scares me the most, Eli.” His voice was gentle, but there was worry beneath every word.
I swallowed. He reached over and squeezed my hand. "Don't convince yourself you have to carry everything alone. Your dad is still alive."
I looked at him and forced a smile. "I'll be more careful."
"You promise?"
I nodded. "I promise."
He studied me for another moment before finally relaxing against the chair. "Good."
I looked toward the window. Morning light spilled through the curtains, pale and almost colorless. But my mind wasn't on the hospital.
It was on white lilies. On that voice in the darkness. And on a memory I couldn't explain.
Why was Adrian's voice full of so much pain? Why did he say he missed me when I was right beside him?
I tightened my fingers around the blanket. Because somewhere inside me, something had recognized that voice.
And I was beginning to fear it wasn't the first time I'd heard it.
* * *
The headaches became more frequent after I came home from the hospital.
Sometimes they were nothing more than brief flashes that disappeared before I could make sense of them. A familiar voice. The warmth of someone's hand. A forgotten laugh that stirred something deep inside me before vanishing again.
Other times, the pain was strong enough to force me to sit down and wait for the dizziness to pass.
I kept telling myself it was stress. Between teaching, writing, everything happening with my mother's restaurant, and the sudden chaos surrounding my relationship with Adrian, I had enough reasons to feel exhausted.
Still, something about those flashes didn't feel like stress.
Why did they feel like memories?
One evening after work, I found Ethan waiting outside the school gates. He was leaning against his car with his arms folded, looking far too pleased with himself.
"You could have warned me you were coming," I said as I approached.
He pushed away from the car and smiled. "Then you would've found an excuse not to see me."
"That's not true."
He gave me a look that made it obvious he didn't believe me. "Dinner?"
"I was actually planning to cook."
"Then I'll help."
"You can't cook."
"I can order food."
I laughed and shook my head. "Come on. I'll make something at home."
He followed me without another argument.
An hour later, Ethan sat across from me at my small dining table, staring suspiciously at the plate of naga chicken I'd placed in front of him. The bright red coating should have been enough warning, but apparently his pride wouldn't allow him to admit defeat before taking the first bite.
He chewed slowly, his eyes beginning to water.
I pressed my lips together, trying not to laugh. "You okay?" I asked.
"Perfectly fine," he said, though his voice had become strangely hoarse.
He took another bite and immediately reached for his water. That was enough to make me laugh. "You said you could handle my cooking."
"I can," he insisted, wiping his forehead with a napkin. "I'm just giving my mouth a moment to appreciate it."
"You look like you're fighting for your life."
He pointed his fork at me. "I'm suffering because I'm a good friend."
The familiar teasing eased something inside me. With Ethan, conversation had always been easy. I didn't have to explain my silences or pretend everything was fine. Being around him felt comfortable, like slipping into an old sweater I'd forgotten how much I loved.
Eventually, though, his expression became more serious.
"So," he said carefully, setting his fork down. "How are things with Adrian?"
I sighed. "Well it's going… Nothing special, same old, same old.”
Ethan watched me for a moment before asking quietly, "Are you sure that's all it is?"
I frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means I'm noticing the way you talk about him. Do you miss him?”
I looked away.
Lately, Adrian has been so occupied with his new project… we hardly met. Is it really showing on my face that I missed him more than I should? But missing someone didn't mean I was falling head over heels for them, did it?
"I'm fine, Ethan. It's just work stress," I said.
"I believe you." Ethan's voice softened. "I'm just worried about you."
That made me look at him.
He hesitated before asking, "Has Adrian ever frightened you?"
"No." The answer came almost immediately from me.
Ethan seemed relieved, but only slightly. "There are things I've heard about him," he said. "Rumors. Stories about a woman he was with before you."
My smile disappeared. "What kind of stories?"
"She supposedly became isolated from everyone around her. Friends. Family. Everyone." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Then there was an accident. She died, and people started questioning what really happened… especially if he was involved."
My eyes widened. "You think Adrian killed her?"
"I don't know what happened," Ethan said firmly. "That's the point. Neither do I. I'm not accusing him of something I can't prove."
"He doesn't seem like that," I said quietly.
Ethan sighed and leaned back. "People like him rarely do."
I frowned. "You barely know him."
"And you don't know everything about him either."
His words unsettled me, but I still couldn't accept the image he was trying to put into my head. Adrian could be mysterious. Sometimes there was a sadness in his eyes that I couldn't explain.
But dangerous?
No.
At least, I didn't want to believe it.
Ethan eventually stood, his expression gentler than before. "I'm not telling you to leave him, Eli. I'm asking you to be careful. If something ever feels wrong, even if you can't explain why, don't ignore it."
I nodded. He paused at the door and looked back at me. "And call me."
"I will."
"I mean it." His voice carried none of his usual teasing.
I gave him a small smile. "I know."
After he left, I closed the door and stood quietly in the hallway. For some reason, his warning stayed with me. And so did the question I didn't want to ask myself.
What if Ethan was right?
That night I called Rebecca. She answered on the fourth ring. "If you're calling me at this hour, either you've finally finished your manuscript or you've done something interesting."
"I need advice."
There was a suspicious pause. "This sounds promising."
I rolled my eyes, even though she couldn't see me. "It's about Adrian."
"Oh, even better."
"Rebecca."
"Fine, fine." I could hear the smile in her voice. "Tell me what's wrong."
I sank deeper into the couch and told her about Ethan's concerns, careful not to make them sound more serious than they were.
Then I admitted what bothered me most. I didn't know how to understand Adrian.
He was charming one moment, strangely distant the next, and there were so many things about him that seemed to exist just beneath the surface.
"I've never been particularly good with men," I admitted. "How am I supposed to figure him out?"
Rebecca burst out laughing.
"I'm serious."
"I know. That's what makes this so funny."
I groaned. "You're useless."
"Not useless. Experienced." She cleared her throat dramatically. "Have you tried flirting with him?"
"I've tried I guess..."
"Properly."
"I don't know what that means."
"Then kiss him."
I nearly dropped my phone.
"Rebecca!"
"What? You're pretending to be his girlfriend. Surely the occasional kiss is within the job description."
"That's not what I meant."
She laughed. "Fine. If you're really trying to understand him, stop treating him like a research subject and spend some actual time with him. Talk to him. Get him comfortable. See what he's like when nobody is watching."
I relaxed slightly. Then she added, "And if all else fails, sleep with him."
"W-WAIT! WHAT?!"
"What?" she asked innocently. "There is a certain thrill to getting involved with dangerous men. Reminds me of my younger days."
I covered my face with one hand, laughing out loud. "I am absolutely not taking dating advice from you."
"Suit yourself. But don't tell me I didn't offer you a perfectly respectable scientific method."
"Goodnight, Rebecca."
"Good luck with your billionaire."
I hung up before she could say anything worse. For a moment, I simply sat there, staring at my phone. Maybe Rebecca was right about one thing. If I wanted to understand Adrian, I needed to see him when he wasn't performing for cameras.
As if summoned by the thought, my phone buzzed. I blinked at the screen before opening the message.
Adrian
I have a favor to ask.
Adrian
I have several meetings tomorrow. Come keep me company at the office.
Adrian
I miss you.
I smiled before I could stop myself. I was deciding how to respond, and another message arrived.
Adrian
Besides... you wanted inspiration for your billionaire hero, didn't you? You can't write one without seeing how he works.
I laughed softly before typing.
Eliana
Are you bribing me with research?
His reply came almost instantly.
Adrian
Absolutely.
I shook my head, still smiling at the screen.
It was questionable how my brain reacted to this man. Just through a few messages, he could make me forget every sensible reason I had to keep my distance.
I hesitated before typing my answer.
Maybe I would understand the sadness I'd glimpsed in his eyes. Maybe I'd discover Ethan's warnings were nothing more than rumors.
Or maybe I'd find something I wasn't prepared to see.
I looked at Adrian's last message again before finally replying.
Eliana
I'll be there.
I set my phone down, unaware that I had just agreed to walk into a part of Adrian's world where he had far fewer reasons to pretend.
But I had no idea what was actually waiting for me in Adrian Ashford's office the next morning.