Elara’s POV

“A…Adrian,” I mumbled in fear. 

He stood at the doorway, scanning the room before landing his eyes on me and the small mess I had already created in the room.

His glare was ice cold. Which made my mind jump in my throat. 

“What are you doing here… in this room? Who gave you permission to be here? Huh!” he thundered, in a low and sharp voice like a whip.

I stumbled a step back, my heart was rattling in my chest as he stepped forward. His scowl only worsened with each inch he closed between us.

“I… I…” My throat tightened. The words hung in my mouth, refusing to come out.

I was afraid. Not of him hurting me but of what I had just uncovered. Of the painful truth bleeding into my heart like poison and for disobeying him.

This was the room I had been warned about since day one. The one place he told me never to enter. And for three years, I’d respected that boundary without ever questioning it. Because I loved him.

But now? Now I realized I was the fool in love with a man who only wanted me because he saw a reflection of the one he loved in me.

“I asked you a question, Elara!” Adrian barked, his voice echoed off the walls. “What are you doing here?”

I opened my mouth again, still frozen in place. I should’ve apologized, should’ve begged him not to be angry, or maybe should’ve defended myself. It wasn't intentional, right? But then I remembered the messages I had read. How he never loved me but his Celine. Gosh! Something snapped inside me.

I straightened my back and lifted my chin, no longer willing to cower. “No,” I said, with my voice steadier than I felt. “I’m not the one who should be explaining.”

Adrian’s brows furrowed. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You tell me,” I spat. “Why are you here painting another woman behind my back? Why is our home decorated like hers? Just the way she would’ve wanted it. Why have I been sleeping next to a man who sees me as nothing but a substitute?”

His lips tightened.

I gave a dry, bitter laugh and gestured to the largest portrait in the room. “For a second, I thought that was me. My heart skipped when I saw it. But no… it’s her. It’s always been her, hasn’t it?”

“Elara….”

“Don’t!” I snapped, holding up my hand. “Don’t you dare say my name like you care!”

He stepped toward me again, reaching for my arm. “Let’s go. You shouldn’t be in here.”

I jerked away. “Don’t touch me!”

“Elara….”

“Answer me!” I screamed, shoving him back. “Why did you marry me if you couldn’t love me?! Why did you stand at that altar, look me in the eyes, and promise a life when all you ever wanted was her?!”

His jaw clenched, and for a second, I saw a touch of guilt or anger in his expression…Maybe. I couldn’t tell.

“You don’t understand,” he growled. “You’re overreacting.”

“Am I?!” I yelled. “Really? Because I read all your messages, Adrian. I know what you told Luke. That I’m beautiful but you can’t bring yourself to love me. That you only chose me because I look like Celine!”

He went quiet. His silence was louder than any confession. Tears threatened my eyes again, but I blinked them back.

“I gave up everything for you,” I whispered, in a trembling voice. “My family. My legacy. My dignity. And all this time, you were just… trying to resurrect a ghost.”

Adrian shook his head and reached for me again, this time more forcefully. “You need to calm down.”

I swatted his hand away. “No, you need to stop pretending. You lied to me for three years!”

My eyes darted around the room, in a desperate, and broken way, until they landed on a red box on the shelf beside the dresser. I grabbed it without thinking, intending to throw it until I saw what it was.

A perfume bottle. Still in its case. My fingers trembled as I traced the satin fabric as I picked it up and turned it over. There, on the corner of the box, was a neatly folded note, half folded beneath the ribbon.

“Please, don't open it.” he pleaded softly but I wasn't ready to listen to him. 

To Celine. Your scent…forever in my memory.

A sob ripped from my throat as the final puzzle piece slid into place. I looked up at him slowly.

“This… this was for her, wasn’t it?” I whispered. “You’ve been buying me her perfume.”

Adrian exhaled sharply. “You didn’t have to wear it. I didn't force you.”

My eyes widened. “I didn’t have to? Adrian, you begged me to. Said it made you feel… close. I wore it for you, even though I hated it!”

I was shaking now, trembling with irritation and humiliation. My chest rose and fell erratically as my tears spilled freely.

I snapped. I hurled the box against the wall. The perfume shattered into sharp glass and sickly sweet fragrance.

Then I reached for the closest canvas and slammed it to the floor.

“Elara, stop…!”

But I couldn’t. I grabbed another and ripped it down, tearing at the fabric like it had wronged me. The frame cracked against the floor.

“You used me!” I screamed. “You used me to fill a hole in your soul!”

“Elara…”

“I gave you everything!” I cried. “My trust. My body. My heart. And all you ever saw was her.”

He didn’t stop me. He didn’t even flinch as I continued to destroy painting after painting. As I broke the vase in the corner. As I threw down every lie we’d lived in this cursed room.

And when I finally turned to him, sobbing, furious, and aching, he just stared.

Then, coldly, like none of it mattered, he straightened his sleeves and said, “If you’re done, I have to get to work.”

I blinked. That’s all? He didn't care? No apologies? He walked out. Just like that. As if I hadn’t just unraveled before him. And he left me standing in a pile of shattered glass and broken illusions.