Chapter 70

Adrian returned home.

The house was silent, eerily so. He had expected the quiet, no one was home. But tonight, the silence felt different. It wasn’t just the absence of voices, footsteps, or laughter. It was deeper. The emptiness pressed against him like a physical weight, mirroring the void in his chest.

His footsteps echoed faintly as he walked through the wide hallway, polished marble floors reflecting the dim lights. The air smelled faintly of cedar and wine, the familiar scent of home, yet it felt alien to him tonight. He moved toward the living room, slow, deliberate, as though dragging the heaviness of his soul along. As he walked through the corridor, his eyes caught the dining, the mess and chaos, everything that had happened in there wanted to rush in, and he quickly dismissed it, looking away.

From there, he wandered into his study. The faint aroma of old books greeted him, and on the mahogany shelf sat the frames, his family portraits carelessly stacke