Chapter 9 Lines Drawn In Blood
Adrian's POV
I have faced boardroom vultures, hostile acquisitions, and attempts to destroy my company from the inside. But absolutely nothing sets my blood boiling the way the sight of flashing cameras outside my home does.
Hazel’s home.
I want to punch through the glass.
I don’t. I force myself to breathe. To stay rational. To not terrify Darcy, who’s already staring at the window like she just discovered a wild animal on the porch.
She turns toward me. “Adrian… what do we do?”
Her voice is small, cautious. It slices right through the fury boiling in my chest.
I school my expression immediately. “Nothing. I’ll take care of it.”
I don’t want her to see how vicious my world can get—how ruthless people become when money, power, or a headline is involved.
“Stay with Hazel,” I say gently. “I’ll handle this.”
Her eyes flick toward the window again, uneasy.
Hazel senses it. She always does. She whimpers, reaching desperately for Darcy as if her entire nervous system is wired to that one person.
Darcy holds her close, whispering soft comfort. Watching the two of them calms me more than any breathing exercise or therapy session ever has.
I pull out my phone and make three calls within a minute.
“Security upgrade. Full. Cameras replaced, new guards at the lobby, and I want a patrol on the street.”
Another call.
“Yes, restrict all visitor access. If their name isn’t already in my system, they don’t get in.”
And a final one.
“Prepare a privacy barrier for the penthouse windows. Today. Not tomorrow.”
When I hang up, my fingers are stiff. I stare at the phone like it betrayed me just by existing.
Darcy watches me with wide eyes. Hazel clings to her shirt, curling tiny fingers around the fabric like she knows something is wrong.
I soften my voice again. “They won’t get near you or Hazel. I promise.”
She nods, but the tension in her shoulders doesn’t fade entirely.
Before I can explain further, my phone rings again.
I don’t need to look at the screen to know who it is.
Only one person calls me this early with the audacity of someone expecting to be obeyed.
Mother.
I answered reluctantly. “Mother ”
Her voice blasts through the receiver like a cold slap. “Tell me you did not bring a stranger into your penthouse.”
I close my eyes. “Not this again.”
“You are risking everything! The board is already whispering that your judgment is unstable. And now I hear through the media, no less that a random girl is living with the Ashford heir? A girl with no background check? No pedigree?”
I grit my teeth. “Darcy is not a risk.”
“She is a stranger,” she hisses. “And Hazel is not a toy. Stop letting that girl play mother and find someone qualified ”
Something snaps.
It’s sharp. Painful. Loud.
“Enough.”
My voice is deeper than I expected. “Stop calling her a stranger. Stop questioning my decisions. And for once, stop acting like Hazel belongs to you.”
There’s silence.
Heavy, shocked silence.
In all my years, I have never raised my voice to this woman. Never pushed back. Never challenged her control.
“Adrian,” she says slowly, “you are making a mistake.”
“No,” I answered firmly. “I’m correcting one.”
Hazel cries softly in Darcy’s arms, and that sound alone fortifies every boundary I’ve ever been too scared to draw.
I ended the call.
Darcy jumps slightly when I slam the phone on the counter. Hazel flinches and buries her face in her shoulder.
Instant guilt hits me. I inhale deeply, forcing my voice steady before I turn to them.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.
Darcy looks up, confusion softening into worry. “It’s okay. I know this is a lot.”
“This shouldn’t affect you,” I continue. “None of this should be your problem. My mother, the press, the insanity that comes with my name ” I pause, shaking my head. “You didn’t sign up for this.”
She steps toward me, Hazel still in her arms. “Maybe not. But Hazel needs me. And you’re doing everything you can. I’m not going anywhere.”
Something inside me stutters.
I don’t know what to say.
No one chooses to stay in my world. People come for money, status, connections but not for… this. Not for the messiness. The vulnerability. The reality.
Darcy’s voice cuts softly into my thoughts. “Hazel’s okay, Adrian. I’m okay too.”
Her words feel like a warm hand pressed against a bruise.
Hazel twists in her arms and reaches out with one tiny hand toward me. I take it automatically. Her grip is small but solid, grounding.
For a moment, the three of us stand in the quiet living room, connected in a way that feels almost… intimate. Dangerous. Like stepping closer to a line I’ve never allowed myself to cross.
I pull my hand back gently before that thought can root too deeply.
“I’ll fix this,” I tell Darcy. “I’ll make sure no one touches either of you.”
She nods, giving me a soft, reassuring smile.
And for a second, I almost believe everything might turn out fine.
Until my phone vibrates.
A new message.
Not from a contact.
Not from a saved number.
Unknown.
I click it open.
My stomach drops instantly, rage flaring hot and explosive in my chest.
Darcy sees my expression and takes a step closer. “Adrian? What is it?”
I swallow hard.
“It’s… it’s a message.”
“From who?”
I look her dead in the eye.
“My mother.”
Her eyes widened. Hazel quiets, sensing the tension.
I turn the phone toward Darcy so she can read it.
Just six words.
Cold. Cruel. Venomous.
Stay away from my granddaughter.
Darcy’s breath catches.
The room goes silent.