"I’ll be inside," Craig said, voice low.
Adriana gave a silent nod, watching him turn and walk away, each step heavy, like he was dragging sothing invisible behind him.
She paused in the quiet, stared at the spot where rlina had stood just monts ago. Sothing didn’t sit right. Not because Craig had lied, though he had, but because of how he’d lied.
He had said he didn’t know her.
But he’d called her rlina.
Not Miss, not you, not hey. He had said her na like it wasn’t new on his tongue. Like it belonged to a story Craig didn’t want her part of.
She replayed the entire interaction quietly, piecing it together with the kind of emotional intelligence she rarely got credit for.
The hesitation in his steps before he moved closer, the look that passed between them, a look that didn’t belong to strangers. Adriana wasn’t foolish enough to miss it. She’d seen tension before. She’d seen exes, almost-lovers, people with unfinished business. That was what Craig and rlina looked like.
She could still see the girl, rlina, standing there. Her posture calm, but not neutral. Her voice composed, but pointed.
rlina hadn’t co for Craig, but the mont she t him, the air changed.
’I wasn’t here for you.’
That sentence hadn’t left Adriana’s mind since she heard it. It had landed like a stone in still water, rippling beneath the surface long after the she walked away. She hadn’t said it for drama. She’d said it to make sothing clear.
She had never heard anyone speak to Craig like that before. Not with that kind of calm detachnt. Not with that kind of finality. And Craig had heard it, felt it. Adriana had seen it in the way his shoulders stiffened.
And yet, when she had asked, "Do you know her?" he had said no.
The lie was what bothered her most.
Because Craig wasn’t careless. He didn’t tell small lies. So why now?
Adriana took a slow breath and turned toward the house, her footsteps light against the stone path as she walked. She didn’t stop. Didn’t look back.
But her thoughts lingered behind. Quiet, watchful, unsettled.
Across town, rlina walked slowly down the quiet street, head low, phone still buzzing in her hand. She finally opened Louis’ ssage.
Louis: Did you find him?
rlina: No. Adriana said he’s out of town.
Louis: You sure she’s not lying?
She hesitated.
rlina: I don’t know. She seed sure. But Craig was there.
The typing dots appeared almost instantly.
Louis: Craig?
rlina: Yeah. Briefly.
Louis: Did you talk to him?
rlina: A little. It wasn’t long.
She paused, thumb hovering over the screen, then added:
rlina: Can we et?
Louis: Yeah. My place or yours?
Later that evening, rlina sat curled up in the far corner of Louis’ couch, a warm mug in her hands, though she hadn’t taken a sip. He handed her a blanket and dropped beside her, arms loosely crossed.
"So, tell everything," he said.
She exhaled, slow. "I went there for Conor. But I ran into Adriana first. She said he wasn’t around. Then I saw Craig."
Louis’ jaw tensed at the na, but he didn’t interrupt.
"He asked why I was there. I said I wasn’t looking for him, and then I left. But..." She trailed off.
"But?"
"He didn’t follow. He just stood there."
Louis frowned slightly, eyes searching hers. "You wanted him to follow?"
"I don’t know," she admitted. "No. Maybe. It’s not about him. This isn’t about him."
Louis leaned back, gaze steady. "You sure?"
rlina swallowed. She rembered sothing. The restroom at Brandon’s party. Craig’s voice, low and bitter. ’It only made sense that you were using Louis as your perfect ally.’
The words echoed now, sharper in the quiet.
"Louis," she said carefully. "Can I ask you sothing?"
He raised an eyebrow. "You just did."
"I’m serious," she said, shifting to face him fully. "What’s your story with the Lesnars? Why do you dislike them?"
His mouth pressed into a line. "You know why."
"Not really. You circle around it. You say they’re untouchable, beyond reproach... but you never explain why you’re the one holding the shovel."
For a long mont, Louis said nothing. Then he got up, walked to the counter, and returned with a glass of water, like he needed sothing to do with his hands.
Louis’s jaw tensed as he stared ahead, his voice low.
"I interned at CCL Group, part of Lesnar Industries, last year, one of the most competitive programs in the country. Out of over a thousand applicants, I was one of just five selected. I was good. I worked late, went above and beyond. Everyone knew I was a top contender for a permanent offer."
He paused, his eyes darkening.
"Then Conor decided I needed to be ’put in my place.’"
rlina glanced at him, brows furrowed.
"He didn’t like that I didn’t suck up to him like the others. He’d walk past my desk and toss files on it like I was his assistant. One ti, he made redo a full presentation because he didn’t like the font. Another day, he deliberately left out of a eting I was supposed to lead, then called incompetent in front of the team."
rlina’s stomach turned. "That’s insane."
Louis gave a tight nod. "It got worse. He started baiting . Saying things to get a reaction. Personal things. About my background. My family. My clothes. One day, I snapped. We argued. Loudly. HR heard about it."
He looked down at his hands, flexed them once.
"Craig stepped in. But not to diate. He backed his brother. Claid I’d been leaking internal docunts to a competitor. Fake evidence, probably planted. A private email chain mysteriously surfaced, one I never wrote."
Her breath caught. "What happened?"
"I was fired. No warning, no investigation. They blacklisted . Every company I applied to after that mysteriously ghosted . Even my dad didn’t believe my words, he was disappointed in . The Lesnars didn’t just ruin the internship. They ruined my shot at that entire career path."
rlina sat in silence for a mont, the sting of Louis’ story pressing heavily against her chest. "I don’t even know what to say," she murmured, shaking her head. After a pause, she added, "I’m sorry that happened to you."
Louis turned to her, his voice colder now. "So, when you ask why I don’t like the Lesnars, it’s not just dislike, rlina. It’s knowing exactly what they are when no one’s watching."
She believed him. Or at least, she didn’t think he was lying. But sothing in her tightened, like a knot being pulled at from both ends.
She rembered Craig in the morning light, talking to birds like they understood him, his voice low, his hands scattering crumbs like small offerings of peace.
And now, with Louis’ story still echoing in her mind, she couldn’t tell which version of him was real. The guy who didn’t just stand by, but helped his brother carry out his wrongs, silent and complicit in the shadows or the one who knelt in the morning light, tenderly feeding the wild things of the sky.
She looked down at her hands, heart heavy with sothing harder to na. Then Phoebe’s voice returned, echoing like a warning in her mind.
’Apart from what Louis said, is there any proof?’
rlina’s voice ca softer now.
"Do you really believe Conor Lesnar was responsible for what happened to my mom?"
Louis blinked. "What?"
She looked at him, her gaze steady and clear. "If we’re gonna do this," she said, her voice firm yet laced with uncertainty, "I need to know that you really want to find the truth."
Louis turned to her, the intensity in his eyes hardening slightly, his jaw tight. "Of course, I do," he replied, his voice carrying a note of frustration. "What do you think this is?"
rlina leaned closer, her voice softening yet resolute. "I need to know if this is about uncovering the truth and not just about settling an old score. Is this personal, or do you truly believe Conor was behind what happened?"
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