Only hours earlier, I might have told Adrian everything.
He had been kind.
Patient.
He had helped me.
But kindness was not the same as trust.
Not yet.
“Enough to know Northbridge matters.”
Something like approval flickered in his eyes.
Not because I was withholding information.
Because I had chosen to.
“All right,” he said.
“You’re not going to ask?”
“I want to.”
“But?”
“But you’ve spent months having information taken out of your hands. I’m not going to do the same thing.”
That landed harder than I expected.
I looked away.
“Then answer the seat question.”
Adrian rubbed one hand over his face.
“My assistant booked the ticket.”
“Name?”
“Claire.”
“Did she choose fourteen B?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was someone else supposed to sit there before you?”
