A D R I A N

She doesn’t wait for me.
Not after that toast. Not after that look.

Elara rises from the table with a spine straight enough to cut steel and walks away like she didn’t just dare me to choose her and I blinked. I don’t reach for her. I don’t explain. I don’t even fucking drink.

And now she’s gone.

The investors murmur back into conversation, their laughter bubbling like nothing happened, like they didn’t just call the woman who saved a life a liability to her face. One of them sips his wine and says something about “optics in wartime.”

Selene glares at him like she’d rather stab him with her dessert spoon. Lucien doesn’t bother masking his disgust.

I lean back in my chair, fingers still wrapped around the stem of the untouched glass. Her words echo harder than anything the board could throw at me.

“To survival.”

She meant hers. She meant mine. She meant the fucking island.

And I just sat there.

Because I was calculating. Because I was weighing her against numbers, headlines, sponsor pull-outs. Because I wanted to be calm.

But calm doesn’t restart a heart. Calm doesn’t drag a boy out of a drowning.

She does.

I stand abruptly. The movement makes Marina look up from her tablet. “Where are you going?” she asks, too bright, too smooth.

“Somewhere quiet,” I say. “Before I decide who else is replaceable.”

I leave the room without another word.

The boardroom hums with false confidence. Connelly leans back in his chair, sipping espresso like he owns the sea.

“We have two options,” he says. “Open the lagoon by morning, spin it as a proactive audit completed ahead of schedule, and resume bookings. Or stay closed another day and leak confidence, maybe permanently.”

He thinks I’ll cave. He thinks I’ll sell survival for optics.

I tap the folder on the table once. Elara’s list. Her crinkled, no-bullshit, annotated list that already saved one life and could save a dozen more.

“There aren’t two options,” I say.

Marina straightens. “Adrian..”

“We’re staying closed. Until every measure on this list is complete, documented, and verified by third-party inspectors. No guest touches that lagoon until Elara Quinn says it’s ready.”

Connelly laughs once. “You’d stall Lantern Tide week for one consultant’s opinion?”

“She’s not a consultant.” My voice cuts clean. “She’s the reason this place didn’t bury a teenager this week. And she’s the only person in that clinic who knows how to stop the next one.”

“Adrian,” Marina murmurs, “this could trigger pullouts..”

“They can pull out.” I glance across the table. “And I’ll replace them with backers who value not being sued for negligent homicide.”

Lucien shifts in his seat, expression unreadable. Selene leans forward with quiet approval.

Connelly exhales. “You’ll bleed money.”

“I’ll keep guests alive.”

“And your optics?”

I let the silence stretch. “Let them call me soft. Let them say I caved. Because when the next incident happens we both know it will. I’ll have a name to give them. Hers. And she’ll have mine.”

The clinic glows like a ship in the dark. Low lights hum behind frosted glass, and inside, she moves like a force. Sleeves rolled. Fingers scribbling. Mouth a flat line of focus.

I step inside. No knock. No pleasantries.

She doesn’t flinch. “If you’re here to explain why silence counts as neutrality, don’t.”

“I’m not.”

She turns slowly. Arms crossed. Jaw tight. “Then what?”

“I called their bluff.”

A beat. “Meaning?”

“The lagoon stays closed. Full audit. Your terms.”

Her eyes narrow. “You overrode Connelly?”

“I reminded him who owns the damn island.”

A pause. “And Marina?”

“She’s drafting safety releases instead of photo captions.”

Her shoulders don’t drop, but the burn in her eyes flickers. “Why now? Why not during the toast?”

I swallow. “Because I was calculating. Because I’ve been trained to value calm over truth. But you were right. And I remembered what you said in the cave.”

She stares, searching for the lie. I didn’t find it.

“I should be furious,” she says. “I was.”

“You still can be.”

“I’m not sure I have the energy left.” Her smile is small, sharp. “You took your time, Valcrosse.”

I step closer. “I’m not asking you to forgive the silence. But I won’t repeat it.”

She studies me. “You still care what they think of you.”

“I care if the family business survives. If I can inherit something intact.”

“And if I inherit something?” she asks. “A clinic that works. A team that’s heard. Do I get to protect that legacy the way you do yours?”

“Yes.” My answer is instant. “You do.”

The moment stretches. Her breath blends with mine. The static between us crackles.

“Don’t stand this close unless you mean it,” she says quietly.

“I meant it when I told them you were the reason this place still breathes.”

She almost says something else. I see it in the flick of her eyelashes. The soft part of her mouth that fights staying hard.

Then the clinic door slams open.

Ethan’s voice cuts through the tension like a wire snap. “We’ve got a problem.”

I turn fast. “What kind of problem?”

“The cold vault. Antivenom drawer.”

Elara tenses beside me. “Which drawer?”

“Top shelf. Priority stock.”

Her voice flattens. “What about it?”

“It’s empty.”

We reach the vault in under a minute. Ethan swipes his badge, types the code, shoulders the door open.

Elara steps in first. Open the drawer. Her breath freezes before her hands do.

Empty.

She turns slowly. “That drawer was full Monday. I checked it myself.”

Ethan nods. “Only three staff have access. You. Asha. Luis.”

“Luis was off. Asha wouldn’t.”

“Could be a swap,” I mutter. “Shell vials, expired stock in the outer fridge.”

Ethan crosses the room, opens the outer fridge, pulls one vial. Frowns. “Expired. Four months.”

Elara exhales hard. “That’s not a mistake.”

“No.” I grit my teeth. “It’s sabotage.”

She turns to me, eyes blazing. “Someone wanted us to fail.”

“Or wanted you to take the fall.”

Her shoulders square. “Then they picked the wrong woman.”

I meet her gaze. “And the wrong heir.”

The cold hums around us. The air feels thinner now.

“Lock this down,” I ordered. “Quietly. Pull badge logs, timestamps, anything.”

Elara nods. “And I’m ordering replacements tonight. Air freight.”

“Do it.” I glance at the empty shelf. “Because if the next guest gets stung..”

“I won’t let that happen,” she snaps.

I believe her.

But someone’s setting traps in the dark.

And now?

They just made it personal.