I leave the door ajar as I approach the bed on which Winter sleeps. Her eyes are closed this time, but her skin is less pale, a bit flushed, as if blood is pumping harder in her veins.

One of her frail hands lies on her stomach and the other is by her side, an IV tube punctures her skin and is attached to a bag hung above her head.

I stare at the door to make sure it’s open and I’m not trapped here with her. She might be comatose, but she scares me. Maybe not like when I thought she was Lia and I’d stolen her husband, but the ominous feeling is still there.

It’s probably my stupid guilt.

“I’m so sorry, Winter,” I whisper. “I shouldn’t have gotten you involved in this life. I shouldn’t have cut your free wings and forced you into this bed. I’m so…so sorry.”

I want to say more, to apologize more and make amends, but what’s the point? She’s motionless while I’m healthy.

Well…almost healthy.

After all, I paid for the sin I committed by living as her and losing my family, even if only for a while. Adrian also said that my abdomen scar is from when I fell from the cliff, not a birth scar as I believed in my other identity. I felt Winter’s loss so viscerally because deep down, I missed Jeremy to the point of madness.

I flop onto a chair by her bedside. “I’m sorry I put you through this, Winter.”

“She put herself through this.”

I lift my head to find my husband leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded over his developed chest and his long legs crossed at the ankles. He’s in black pants, a white shirt, and an open dark brown cashmere coat that reaches his knees.

He’s always dressed so simple yet so elegant.

He must’ve just finished working, because his office door was closed when I passed it earlier.

“You scared me,” I murmur.

“Then you shouldn’t have come here.”

“I can’t keep avoiding her forever while we live under the same roof.”

“You’re not living under the same roof.”

“Fine. Same property.”

“Then I can move her away.”

“Away…where?” I sound as spooked as I feel, probably because I know what life means in Adrian’s dictionary—nothing.

“Anywhere but here.”

“No. She’s like this because of us. We need to take responsibility.”

“Responsibility for what? Did you force her to switch places with you?”

“Of course not.”

“Then I’m taking no responsibility for a choice she made on her own.”

“Did hitting her head also happen because of a choice she made?”

“Yes. She tried to run away, tripped, and cracked her head.”

“Really?” I frown. I thought he’d caused her to be like this somehow.

“If I’d hurt her, I wouldn’t be ashamed to admit it. She took your place and that alone is punishable by death according to me.”

“Is there anything that’s not punishable by death according to you?”

“Not really.”

“Death is supposed to be the last possible resort, not the first.”

“Not to me. I don’t believe in second chances, Lenochka.”

“But you…gave me one. Right?”

“You’re the exception.”

I get what he’s saying without him having to voice it aloud. This is the only chance he’ll give me, so I better use it well.

Not that I didn’t know already.

“How did you know I was here?” I opt to change the subject. “Let me guess, Boris or Kolya.”

“Kolya.”

I scoff. “What a perfect right-hand man. You spend more time with him than with anyone else, you know. If you swung in the other direction, he would’ve been your model wife.”

“Are you jealous of my second-in-command, Lia?”

“Of course not!”

“If you say so.”

“Stop it, Adrian.” A small smile lifts my lips, but he keeps his signature blank expression.

“What? I’m agreeing with you.”

“You’re teasing me.”

“Hmm. Is that so?”

“There. You’re doing it again.”

“Am I?”

“Yes!”

Adrian pushes off the door and stalks toward me. I suck in a deep breath, my heart hammering in my ears. Now that he’s getting closer, I’m caught in that trance that’s exclusive to him. The one where he’s the only thing I can breathe or feel.

This isn’t healthy, is it? I’m not supposed to hang on to every breath out of his sinfully proportioned mouth. I shouldn’t be burning up from the inside out because of the simple fact that he’s approaching me.

Why did I have to go and fall in love with him? It would’ve been easier if I didn’t have feelings for him.

Or if, at least, all I felt toward him was fear.

As he stops beside me, I just want to throw myself in his arms and burrow my face in his chest.

His large palm engulfs my slender shoulder and I freeze in place, my heart beating so violently in my chest, I’m surprised it doesn’t break free from my ribcage.

His hand still in place, he glides his fingers up my neck, unhurriedly, deliberately until my harsh breathing is louder than the beeping of the machine.

“Did you know that red creeps up your delicate throat and ears when you’re flustered or lying?” He leans over, his voice dripping with seduction. “Or when you’re turned on.”

“Adrian…” I mean to scold, but his name comes out as a whisper.

“There. It’s happening again.” He glides his finger over the pulse point in my neck. “I assume you’re aroused, Lenochka?”

“Do you enjoy driving me out of my element?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m the only one who does it.”

“You’re so arrogant.”

“And you’re so fond of labels.”

“I told you. I’m just giving things their names.” I focus back on Winter because if I allow myself to be sucked into Adrian’s orbit, I won’t be able to escape at all. It’s impossible to ignore his hand on my shoulder or the slow up and down motion of his fingers. “So?”

“So what?”

“What are we going to do about Winter?”

“I can keep searching for her family. Though from Kolya’s report, she doesn’t have one. Or as I said, I can transfer her.”

“Don’t do that. The nurse can keep taking care of her here. Don’t you think we owe her that much?”

“No. As I mentioned, no one forced her to come here.”

“You can be so heartless sometimes.”

“You mean logical.”

“Heartless.” I stare at Winter. “She was so happy when she thought she could live a rich person’s life.”

Adrian’s movement pauses and his hand remains inert on my shoulder. “And you were so ready to give up your life for her.”

There’s no accusation in his quiet tone, but it couldn’t have been clearer if he pointed a finger at me.