Chapter 32: Jeanne's Determination

Adrian was angry at Jeanne's persistence. What was she calling him for? She made her choice and treated him in the worst way possible.

The most annoying time her calls came in was when he was with one of his girls. It was so inconveniencing.

He changed her name to Rocky Blue on his phone and silenced her calls.

He could have blocked her number, but they were friends longer than they were lovers. Childhood family friends who looked forward to seeing each other during holidays and other occasions.

He had to consider and give her that regard.

On the flip side, it would be agonizing for her to realize he was only a phone call away, yet her calls would always go unanswered.

He knew eventually her desperation would bring her to his doorstep, and he made a foolproof plan to avoid her totally.

During the holiday season, he had remained home since Thanksgiving. He collaborated with his estate and house security personnel to set up an immediate alert system for detecting her presence. They even established a covert method of communication.

No images of her were necessary, as everyone was well acquainted with her appearance.

Furthermore, he had instructed all the household staff to notify her of his absence if they happened to encounter her.

His strategy involved retreating to the panic room in his residence the moment Jeanne paid a visit. This location was unlikely to be searched, allowing him to stay comfortably for days if she chose to stay for a while.

While he couldn't evade her indefinitely, he was committed to attempting it for the time being.

As Jeanne's heart raced, the anticipation of facing Adrian again churned within her. The flight had been a solitary journey for Jeanne.

The private jet soared over the Atlantic, carrying her from London to New York, a journey that mirrored the vast distance she had felt between them.

As the plane cut through the clouds, she gazed out the window, her thoughts a tempest of tension and hopes.

Regrets, like an unrelenting storm, crashed against the shores of her consciousness. It gnawed at her heart like a persistent ache, each memory of her betrayal a weight she couldn't escape.

She had allowed momentary lapses to fracture the foundation of their relationship, giving in to temptation on many occasions and betraying Adrian's trust. How did she let moments of weakness affect her life this way?

Each flashback was a bitter reminder of the choices she couldn't undo. How she wished she could rewind time and stop herself from straying, from losing the one who had held her heart so tenderly.

Her anticipation intensified with every passing mile, mingling with the trepidation that coiled deep within her.

As the jet touched down in New York, her heart surged with determination to mend what was broken.

Jeanne disembarked to meet with her father's chauffeur, who awaited her, driving her straight to the Sterlings' mansion.

The grandeur of the house seemed meaningless against the backdrop of her anxiety. Her pulse quickened with every step toward the front door, her heart a battleground of emotions.

At Adrian's doorstep, her breath caught in her throat. Her hand hovered over the doorbell for a moment before she pressed it. The chime resonating through the expansive foyer, its chime a reminder of the bridges she needed to rebuild.

With each passing second, her fingers trembled, her heart pounding like an echo of the jet engines that had carried her across the ocean.

"Adrian?" Jeanne's voice quivered, her heart pounding as if seeking solace in the rhythm of his name.

Silence hung in the air, heavy and pregnant with uncertainty. The mansion's vastness seemed to echo her desperation, as if the walls themselves absorbed her emotions.

"Hello Miss Everdeen," the butler who opened the door greeted her.

She dashed past him and went straight into the house.

"Adrian, where Adrian?" she asked as she made her way into his room.

"Mr Sterling isn't home, ma'am," the butler said, his voice ringing through the large foyer after her.

Not coming to terms with what the butler said, she moved through the house, calling out his name with anticipation.

Time seemed to stretch, dragging out her quest to find him. Her steps grew heavier with each passing moment, the truth settling like a stone in her chest.

His empty room was a representation of her inner unrest, a reflection of the hollow space left by his absence.

Her hope began to waver and dwindle, overshadowed by the realization that he was avoiding her. She knew because she saw his AirPods on his bedside table. Adrian never went anywhere without them.

It was in the soft glow of the sunset filtering through the windows that Jeanne accepted the painful reality.

Adrian was intentionally hiding from her, retreating behind the fortress of his mansion's walls. The realization was a sharp blade that cut through her heart, mingling with the guilt that had led her here in the first place.

With a heavy sigh, she sank onto a plush couch, a photograph they took together caught her eye. He had folded her face inside the frame. Only his image and her hand on his shoulder showed in the photograph.

Tears welled in her eyes, as her fingers traced the edges of the photograph.

She held the picture to her chest, hugging it close to herself.

"I'm sorry, Adrian. I truly am," she whispered and cried.