Adrian tried to move his chair back.

It wouldn’t budge.

His smile faded.

“…What did you do?”

The girl stepped closer.

“You built your empire on silence,” she said softly. “So I gave you one.”

The windows outside the penthouse no longer showed the city.

Only darkness.

Adrian’s breathing got heavier.

“This is some trick—security—!”

But no one came.

No alarms.

No response.

Only the music box.

Ticking… playing… looping.

The girl leaned in.

And whispered:

“You don’t remember me… because you chose not to.”

Adrian’s eyes narrowed… then slowly widened.

A memory flickered.

A hospital.

A decision.

A door closing.

“No…” he whispered.

The girl’s smile disappeared.

“You do remember.”

The music box snapped shut on its own.

And in that instant—Adrian screamed.

Not from pain.

From recognition.