Chapter 7

Adrian stood at the foot of his bed, folding a crisp white shirt with mechanical precision. The room was unusually quiet, the kind of quiet that pressed into his ears and forced his thoughts inward. A small suitcase lay open on the bed, half-filled with neatly arranged clothes— nothing excessive, nothing indulgent. Just the essentials.

God! He remembered. He remembered when Amelia used to do this for him, years ago, with that precision, love and care she always carried.

He reached for another shirt, paused, then swapped it for a darker one. Practical. Always practical.

He placed a slim folder into the side compartment of the suitcase— documents, contracts, printed schedules, then slid in his tablet and a leather-bound notebook he never traveled without. His movements were calm, controlled, but there was a tension beneath them, like a man counting seconds without looking at the clock.

His phone buzzed on the bed.

He ignored it at first, zipping the inner