He Counted Every Blow—Until Her Brother Walked In

Chapter 07 - Champagne Arithmetic

The library clock read 9:42 when Adrian locked the doors.

At 9:47, Ruby sent Julian the emergency message she had promised Elena she would never send unless she heard the bolt slide into place.

At 9:49, the hidden chandelier camera began uploading to a secure server.

At 9:51, Sabrina said, “One.”

Later, everyone would argue about the number.

Adrian insisted there had been fewer. Sabrina claimed she had exaggerated because she was drunk. The defense attorneys called the count theatrical.

Elena remembered only fragments: the cold marble under her knees, the smell of champagne, Adrian’s breath becoming ragged with his own anger. He did not strike her two hundred times with equal force. Some were shoves, some slaps, some blows against her shoulder when she tried to protect her face.

But Sabrina counted each one.

That was the horror. Not mathematics, but ceremony.

At fifty, Elena asked Adrian to stop.

At eighty, she stopped asking.

At one hundred twenty-three, Sabrina ordered another bottle from the intercom.

Ruby brought it in. Her eyes met Elena’s for half a second. She placed the bottle on the table, then “accidentally” dropped the corkscrew near Elena’s phone.

The phone slid beneath the edge of the sofa.

Adrian never noticed.

At one hundred sixty, Sabrina laughed because Adrian’s hand hurt.

“Poor thing,” she said. “Do you want ice?”

Elena’s fear changed shape.

She had spent months hoping Adrian would remember the man he had pretended to be. Now she understood that man had been a sales presentation. The product had never existed.

At one hundred ninety-eight, Adrian stepped back, breathing hard.

“That’s enough.”

Sabrina swirled her glass. “You promised two hundred.”

“I said enough.”

“You always stop before finishing anything.”

The insult was aimed at him, but it revealed something Elena had not seen before. Sabrina did not control Adrian through affection. She controlled him through contempt.

He turned toward Elena again.

Elena reached under the sofa and found the phone.

She pressed Dry Cleaning.

“The blue roses are dead,” she said when the call connected.

Adrian tore the phone away.

Sabrina looked bored. “One ninety-nine.”

Then came the sound of the outer doors opening.

Not the polite click of staff.

A crash of wood against plaster.

Footsteps moved through the marble hall.

Adrian’s face emptied.

Julian entered first, followed by two security officers and Marcus Reed. Ruby stood behind them with the expression of a woman finally watching a fire truck arrive.

Julian crossed to Elena, took off his coat, and placed it around her shoulders.

He did not ask whether she was all right. The question would have been an insult.

Instead he said, “Can you stand?”

“Yes.”

Adrian found his voice. “This is my house.”

Marcus looked around.

“Not as of ten minutes ago.”

He handed Adrian the envelope.

Sabrina leaned forward.