The world didn't stop just because I did.
That realization came quietly, on a morning that felt no different from the others. The penthouse was calm, the city beyond the windows alive with movement, and yet I felt strangely disconnected from it all like I was watching life through glass.
Adrian had already left the bedroom when I woke up. I found him in the living area, standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, phone pressed to his ear, his posture rigid.
"Yes," he said.
"No, that won't be necessary."
A pause.
"Keep me informed."
He ended the call before noticing me.
"You're up early," he said, turning.
"So are you."
"I didn't sleep."
I didn't comment on that. It was becoming a pattern.
"What's going on?" I asked instead.
"Nothing you need to worry about."
I sighed. "You say that a lot."
"Because it's usually true."
"Or because you don't want me involved."
His gaze sharpened slightly, but he didn't deny it.
"Adrian."
"Sophia," he replied evenly. "You wanted things to be normal. This is normal. I handle external matters. You rest."
"That might be normal for you," I said. "It's not normal for me."
He studied me for a moment, as if weighing his response.
"Cole Industries' stock dipped again this morning," he said finally.
I froze.
"How much?" I asked.
"Three percent. Small, but noticeable."
That was earlier than expected.
My fingers curled unconsciously. In my last life, this was around the time the first cracks began to show tiny fluctuations no one took seriously until it was too late.
"Market reaction?" I asked.
"Cautious."
"And Ethan?"
Adrian's expression darkened. "He's been making calls. Trying to reassure investors."
I let out a slow breath. "He's panicking."
"Yes."
"And you didn't think I should know this?"
"I didn't think it would help."
I looked at him steadily. "You're wrong."
He hesitated. Just for a second.
"That's exactly what worries me," he said.
Later that day, I sat at the dining table with my laptop open, pretending to read while my mind worked through scenarios.
Cole Industries was bleeding, slowly. Not enough to cause alarm, but enough to create pressure. Ethan would try to stabilize things publicly press releases, optimistic projections, controlled interviews.
But behind the scenes?
He would make mistakes.
"Thinking too hard again?" Lucas asked, strolling in with his usual easy grin.
I looked up. "How long have you been here?"
"Long enough to see Adrian glare at me for breathing too loudly."
"Because you do," Adrian replied from the kitchen.
Lucas laughed. "See? Hostile work environment."
I smiled faintly. Lucas had always had a way of lightening the mood without pushing.
"What's new in the outside world?" I asked him.
He raised a brow. "Besides your ex spiraling?"
"Yes. Besides that."
Lucas leaned against the counter. "Rumors. Investors whispering. A few people distancing themselves quietly."
"That fast?" I murmured.
"People smell blood quicker than you think."
I nodded. "Ethan won't take that well."
"He never does," Adrian said. "Which is why security remains tight."
Lucas glanced between us. "You didn't tell her."
Adrian's jaw tightened.
"Tell me what?" I asked.
Lucas grimaced. "Oops."
"Lucas," Adrian warned.
I straightened. "Adrian."
The two men exchanged a look.
"There was an inquiry this morning," Lucas admitted. "Anonymous tip. Financial irregularities."
My heart skipped not with fear, but recognition.
"So it's started," I said quietly.
Adrian turned to me sharply. "This is exactly why I didn't want to tell you."
"Because now I know?"
"Because now you'll involve yourself."
I met his gaze. "Because now I can help."
Silence fell.
"You promised," I reminded him. "No more decisions without me."
He exhaled slowly. "Fine."
Lucas raised both hands. "I'm going to leave before this turns into a marital negotiation."
After he left, Adrian moved closer to me.
"This stays between us," he said. "For now."
I nodded. "I don't plan to confront him."
"Good."
"I plan to outmaneuver him."
His lips curved slightly. "That's more like you."
That afternoon, my phone buzzed with a number I hadn't seen in a long time.
Unknown Caller.
I stared at the screen, my pulse steady.
I already knew who it was.
"Don't answer it," Adrian said from across the room.
"I won't," I replied.
The phone stopped ringing.
Then a message came through.
Sophia, we need to talk. There are things you don't understand.
I closed my eyes briefly.
Ethan always believed that.
I deleted the message without replying.
Adrian watched me closely. "You're sure?"
"Yes."
The phone buzzed again.
This time, it was Elena.
Be careful. Something's shifting.
I typed back a quick response, then set the phone aside.
"Everyone's suddenly worried about you," Adrian said.
"They should be worried about themselves," I replied.
He studied me, something unreadable in his gaze.
"You're enjoying this," he said quietly.
"I'm prepared for it," I corrected. "There's a difference."
That night, the city felt closer.
Louder.
I stood by the window again, watching lights flicker on one by one, the world resuming its rhythm outside our carefully controlled space.
Behind me, Adrian spoke into his phone in low tones. I didn't catch the words, only the intent.
When he ended the call, I turned.
"It's not just Ethan, is it?" I asked.
"No."
"Is it someone I know?"
He hesitated.
"Not yet," he said.
That answer chilled me more than a name ever could.
As I climbed into bed later, Adrian's arm settled around me, familiar and steady. Lily shifted gently, grounding me.
The outside world was moving again.
And for the first time since my rebirth, I wasn't watching from the sidelines.
I was ready to step back in.
I didn't tell Adrian about the second message.
Not because it mattered but because I wanted to know how far Ethan would go on his own.
I spent the rest of the afternoon doing something that looked harmless on the surface: reading reports, flipping through news articles, watching interviews muted on the television screen. To anyone else, it might have seemed like distraction.
To me, it was reconnaissance.
Ethan was already setting the stage.
He smiled too much in public appearances. Spoke too confidently. Emphasized stability with the desperation of someone afraid the word itself might vanish if he didn't repeat it enough times.
A man secure in his position didn't need to convince anyone.
A man cornered did.
"Still think this is nothing?" I asked quietly, eyes fixed on the screen.
Adrian stood behind me, arms crossed. "I think he's running out of room."
"So he'll make a mistake."
"Yes."
"And when he does?"
Adrian didn't answer immediately. "I won't let it reach you."
I glanced back at him. "You can't shield me from every consequence."
"I can try."
That was the problem.
By early evening, the penthouse felt smaller.
Too quiet.
Too controlled.
I found myself pacing slowly, one hand resting against my lower back, the other unconsciously protecting my stomach. Lily shifted, responding to the movement.
"I know," I murmured. "I feel it too."
Adrian looked up from his tablet. "What?"
"Change," I said simply.
He studied me for a moment, then set the tablet aside. "You're restless."
"I'm aware."
"Then sit."
I raised an eyebrow. "That was an order."
"That was concern," he corrected.
I didn't argue but I didn't sit either.
"I need to know what you're not telling me," I said.
His jaw tightened. "Not everything is ready to be shared."
"Or not everything fits the version of safety you're trying to sell me."
His gaze sharpened. "You think I'm manipulating you."
"I think you're managing information," I replied. "And that makes me nervous."
Silence stretched between us.
Finally, Adrian spoke. "Someone requested access to old Blackwood records today."
My breath stilled. "Financial?"
"No. Legal."
That wasn't Ethan.
"Did you deny it?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Then they'll try another way."
"Yes."
I looked at him steadily. "You see? This is bigger than just my ex."
He didn't deny it.
Dinner was a quiet affair.
We ate side by side, close enough to feel each other's presence, distant enough to avoid conversation that might cut too deep. The city lights reflected off the glass walls, turning the room into a mirror of shadows and gold.
Adrian reached for my hand halfway through the meal.
I let him.
"I don't regret marrying you," he said suddenly.
I blinked. "That came out of nowhere."
"No," he replied. "It's been there the whole time."
I studied his expression, searching for irony, calculation, anything that suggested strategy.
There was none.
"I don't regret it either," I admitted.
"But?"
"But this wasn't supposed to feel like this."
His thumb brushed lightly against my knuckles. "Like what?"
"Like something we can't undo."
A faint smile touched his lips. "Some things aren't meant to be undone."
The words lingered.
So did the implication.
Later that night, after Adrian fell asleep, I reached for my phone again.
There was a new message.
No name.
No number.
Just words.
You think you're safe because you married him.
You're wrong.
My pulse remained steady but my fingers went cold.
I deleted the message.
Not because I was afraid.
But because I understood the warning.
I turned onto my side, facing Adrian, his arm instinctively tightening around me even in sleep. Lily shifted again, a gentle reminder of what was at stake.
The outside world wasn't just knocking anymore.
It was watching.
And this time, it wasn't waiting for permission to enter.