Isabelle 

Did he really just say that?

My head spins. That's crazy. That can't be true. I couldn't have just given my heart—and my V-card—to some homicidal psychopath. "No. That's impossible."

Right?! Though with our luck lately....

"It's not," he mutters, yanking his arm free from my tightening grip.

For fuck's sake.

"My family's business was in trouble. We hadn't come up with anything new in years, and we were bleeding money. It wasn't too bad at first, but if we didn't make changes, bankruptcy was inevitable," he explains, his voice hollow. "I found a way to save the company, but it cost much more than any stocks I might've lost if I'd done nothing."

"What does that mean?" I ask, thinking the deal made him have a mental breakdown.

What else would cause him to kill his family?

"I negotiated a merger with a rival tech company, and got the board signed off on it," he continues, his tone darkening. "Everything seemed fine until the other company decided they wanted our manufacturing moved to one of their bigger facilities—where they could assemble the products faster."

Adam rises from the bed and begins pacing, wringing his hands.

"I told them the factory was the nearby town's life support, but they didn't care. I got outvoted, and they shut it down. Thousands of people lost their jobs and their adoration for my family's name."

"I remember hearing about that," I say, vaguely recalling the news. "A lot of people in Mystic Bluff lost their jobs because of it, too."

"One night, I was working late. I was always working late after that. I remember Jess kept calling me that night, but I ignored every call because we were in a fight." His brows furrow, ashamed of what he just admitted to me. "And I didn't want to have another argument over the phone," he whispers.

I scoot closer to the edge of the bed to hear him clearer. It's as if he's speaking more to himself than to me. Like he's trying to rationalize everything that happened to them for the first time.

"When I finally answered, a husky voice told me that if I wanted to keep them safe, I'd come home immediately. Alone." Adam pauses, closing his eyes. "When I got here, the house was trashed, and all I could hear was Thomas screaming. I followed it to our room... and three men were waiting for me. Two of them had guns pointing at Jess and Thomas."

"Oh God," I whisper, suddenly understanding the reason behind the abundance of security on the property. "That's why you have cameras everywhere."

"I'll never let anyone come here and hurt Eliza, Louis, or Claud. They went through enough that night," he snarls, fury flashing in his eyes. "Locked up like animals, not knowing what was happening."

"Who were they?" I ask quietly.

"Disgruntled factory workers. They wanted to destroy my family like I did all of theirs," he says, a bitter, hysterical laugh escaping him. His eyes are red, filled with anguish. "I begged them... begged them to do whatever they wanted to me, but to let Jess and Thomas go. But they wouldn't." His voice drops to a whisper, still pleading for their lives, even now.

"Everything after that happened so fast," he says, his eyes distant as if he's trying to piece together the events. He extends his finger toward the walls like he's trying to remember the details exactly. "I ran at the men pointing the guns, but the last guy tackled me and started beating me. Then he pulled out a knife and said he was going to gut me... like I gutted the town."

Adam swallows hard, his throat tightening. "Th-that's when the front door opened, and it must've spooked the man aiming at Thomas."

My hands fly to my mouth as my eyes fill with tears—every part of me breaking along with him as he relives the nightmare.

"I remember the gunshot, Jess screaming—or maybe it was me screaming—and then another shot, and then, and then... nothing. The guy on top of me ran, but not before leaving me with these to remember him by," he says, gesturing to the scars on his face. "The police said their alcohol levels were off the charts, and they got life in prison, but—"

"That doesn't bring them back," I finish softly, understanding the ache of never seeing someone you love again. I take his trembling hands in mine. "But you didn't kill Jessica and Thomas."

"If I'd answered the phone sooner, if I hadn't called the police, if I'd never pushed the damn merger, or if... I killed them. My decisions killed them!" he shouts, the weight of his words dragging him to the floor. A gut-wrenching scream tears from him, raw and anguished, as if he's never truly processed what happened to Jessica and Thomas until now.

I drop to the floor beside him, gripping his hand tightly.

"No," I say firmly. "The only ones to blame are the men who invaded your home."

"But I—"

"No!" I cut him off, my eyes locking with his. "Their deaths are not on you. It's not your fault." Tears prick my eyes as his pain crushes into me like a wave crashing against a rocky shore. "It's not your fault."

Adam's brows lift slightly, and for a brief moment, I catch a shimmering flicker in his eyes.

Hope?

It's like I've finally said the words he's needed to hear for so long. The words he needs to release himself from his self-imposed prison. His head falls against my chest, and he begins to cry, his sobs shaking his entire body, as he forgives himself for every choice that led to that night.

"It's not your fault," I repeat softly, cradling him in my arms, soothing him as we both weep, letting our tears wash away every horrible thing until they subside.

My eyes flutter closed as I rest my head gently against his. We sit there in silence, his burden no longer his alone to carry. I don't know how long we stay like that—time seems to lose meaning in the quiet comfort of the moment. Eventually, he pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, his face still streaked with tears, and whispers, "Thank you."