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‘But I saw her come out of that hotel room with Theo. So how is that possible?’

The questions gnawed at him, refusing to let go. Yet, as he stared down at her sleeping face, something in him gave way.

“I don’t care,” he murmured quietly, voice rough. “As long as you come back to me, nothing else matters.”

He slid back under the covers, his arm slipping beneath her neck. And in her sleep, she stirred, her body naturally turning toward his, half-draped over him as she burrowed into his chest in her sleep.

Adrian’s eyes softened.

He buried his face in her hair, the scent of her wrapping around him like comfort, like peace.

He dipped his face into her hair, breathing her in, and kissed her forehead gently. His arms locked around her, holding her like he never wanted to let go.

And for the first time in two years, Adrian Vaughn—billionaire, kingmaker, the man who had everything—finally fell asleep with the only thing he ever truly wanted.

***

The next morning Sienna stirred, eyes fluttering open. The bed beside her was empty, the room quiet.

She sat up slowly, brushing her hair back. The memories of last night flooded back as her eyes adjusted to the light. This time, she really took in the room.

It was filled with photos—photos of them. On the nightstand. On the walls. Framed on shelves. Even a massive framed portrait hanging where the abstract artwork used to be. All of them were of her and Adrian.

Her breath caught.

She remembered the time, years ago, when they had been together. One morning, while Adrian was at the office, she had decided to surprise him. She had snuck out of bed, framed some of their photos, and placed them around the room—one on the nightstand, one on the wall after removing a landscape painting.

When Adrian came back from the office, he paused just inside the doorway, his sharp gaze sweeping over the bedroom. Then it landed on the photos.

Her face had lit up, glowing with excitement. “Look at them,” she had beamed, hands spread like she was showing off a masterpiece. “Now doesn’t your room look perfect for the both of us?” she asked happily, eyes sparkling. “Are you surprised?”

But to her shock, his face had twisted with irritation. His dark brows furrowed, and annoyance hardened his handsome features. “What is all this shit?” he snapped.

Her smile faltered. Her heart dropped, but she didn’t let it show. Chin tilted up in defiance, she had marched toward him with her hands planted on her hips and declared, “I hung our photos in the room. Now, anyone who walks in will know I’m the future mistress of this house—and this bedroom.”

Adrian’s eyes had darkened further. His voice was sharp, deep, authoritative. “Gabby!” he barked.

The maid had rushed in instantly, startled.

“Get these photos out of my room within the hour,” he had ordered coldly, not even sparing Sienna a glance. “And don’t let anyone change my room again.”

Gabby had looked at Sienna guiltily, caught off guard. Everyone knew Sienna practically lived in Adrian’s bedroom. Even if they weren’t officially living together, they had been inseparable. So for him to act like she was just ‘anyone’ had been a shock.

Gabby had given Sienna a regretful look before stepping out silently.

Adrian hadn’t said another word. He had turned on his heel and disappeared into the walk-in closet, yanking off his tie and pulling open a drawer with a hard clatter.

Sienna had let out a frustrated huff, her pout deepening. “Hey!” she had shouted after him, her voice shaky with emotion. “What do you mean?! You don’t want me to be your future wife?”

But the question had hung in the air like a ghost. Adrian hadn’t responded. Hadn’t even looked back.

And now, those same photos were back. Not just one or two. Dozens. On the nightstand, on the walls, even large portraits. His bedroom was covered in photos of them together.

She sat up in bed, clutching the sheet to her chest, her eyes scanning every corner of the room.

“He’s gone all out,” she scoffed softly, both amused and hurt. Her gaze moved slowly around the room. “Set this all up to make me believe he has feelings for me.” Her fingers brushed over a frame on the nightstand. She scoffed. “How easy does he think it is to manipulate me?”

She set the frame down with a click, swung her legs over the bed, and reached for her clothes. The room felt heavy, stifling. And he wasn’t even here, he’d already left, like always. What was the point of staying?