Chapter 162

Adrian's gaze shifted downward, settling on Vivian's leg propped against the bed's edge. From this angle, the scars that once marred her skin were nearly invisible. A quiet relief washed over him, prompting him to murmur, "You can barely see them anymore."

She remained silent, her fingers working the ointment into her skin with clinical precision. When finished, she rose abruptly, thrusting the tube toward him like a challenge. "Done. Take this and have Ethan assist you next time."

Before she could retreat, Adrian's arm snaked out, pulling her against his chest with a force that stole her breath.

His whisper curled around her like smoke. "Why do you keep running from me?"

Vivian found herself trapped against Adrian's rain-dampened shirt, the unexpected warmth of his body sending shockwaves through her system. She tilted her head back, meeting his piercing stare - that same predatory look that once unraveled her defenses, that once coaxed vulnerable confessions from her lips. But no longer.

What once tethered her to him had eroded, leaving only brittle resistance in its wake.

Her voice turned arctic. "Mr. Blackwood, your memory fails you. I've made myself clear - I have zero interest in my almost ex-husband."

She twisted in his grasp, but his arms tightened like quicksand. The scent of petrichor and something distinctly Adrian - sandalwood and mint - triggered a memory she swiftly crushed. Her irritation flared at how easily he disrupted her equilibrium.

Adrian's hands anchored her shoulders and thighs, his voice deceptively calm. "A divorce isn't some teenage breakup, Vivian. Without my signature, it's not happening."

She went rigid. "Is this amusing to you? Some perverse entertainment?"

Instead of answering, his gaze swept across her chaotic workspace - scripts strewn like fallen leaves, half-empty coffee cups littering every surface.

A derisive chuckle escaped him. "This is what you call living? Working yourself to the bone like some indentured servant? You think this is what success looks like?"

Her jaw clenched. "Not your concern."

"Oh, it's absolutely my concern," Adrian snapped, irritation sharpening his words. "The Mirage Lounge incident, that brawl outside Cascade Residences last week - every mess you've stumbled into since leaving required my intervention. When will you stop pretending life's some reckless game?"

His words struck like icicles, freezing her momentarily. Then the dam broke.

"Don't you dare mention last week!" she seethed, voice trembling. "Do you have any idea how terrified I was? They drugged my drink, dragged me into that car like cargo! I smashed a bottle across someone's head, fought like hell, and still couldn't escape!"

Her voice cracked, tears threatening. "And where were you?" The accusation hung between them. "The cruel joke? Maxwell saved me. Not you. The man I married you to escape. Maybe I should've just married him instead!"