Invisible.
Probably listening the whole time.
“Okay that’s creepy.”
“I apologize.”
His tone sounded genuinely sincere.
Adrian stepped closer.
Not too close.
Just enough that the moonlight from the window passed through him like silver fog.
“You’re an artist.”
It wasn’t a question.
Isabelle glanced at her easel.
“Trying to be.”
He studied the painting quietly.
“The rose lacks depth.”
Her mouth fell open.
“Excuse me?”
He gestured toward the canvas.
“The skyline is technically sound. But the rose…”
His gaze returned to her.
“You were distracted.”
Isabelle folded her arms.
“You painted it.”
“Yes.”
“So technically you insulted your own work.”
He looked almost amused.
“You misunderstand.”
His voice softened.
“I painted the emotion you could not.”
The words landed like a quiet punch to the chest.
Isabelle didn’t like how accurate that felt.
She crossed the room and sat in the armchair, staring at him.
“So.”
She exhaled slowly.
“You’re Adrian Laurent. A ghost. Who plays piano and critiques my paintings.”
“That seems to summarize the situation.”
“And you died here?”
His expression changed.
The faint humor vanished.
“Yes.”
The silence that followed felt heavier.
Isabelle hesitated.
“You don’t have to talk about it.”
Adrian’s gaze drifted toward the piano.
“I ended my life in this room.”
Her stomach twisted.
Clara had told the truth.
“I’m sorry.”
He didn’t respond immediately.
When he spoke again, his voice sounded distant.
“It was a different world then.”
His eyes flicked toward her.
“New York was louder. Dirtier. Alive with ambition.”
Isabelle tilted her head.
“What year?”
“1923.”
Her jaw dropped.
“You’ve been here for a hundred years?”
“Approximately.”
“That’s…”
She shook her head.
“Wow.”
Adrian watched her carefully.
“You are handling this surprisingly well.”
Isabelle leaned back.
“I spent three years trying to survive the New York art scene.”
She shrugged.
“At this point, a ghost roommate isn’t even in the top ten weirdest things I’ve dealt with.”
For the first time—
Adrian laughed.
The sound was soft.
Warm.
Human.
And suddenly the room didn’t feel so cold anymore.
Isabelle blinked.
“You can laugh.”
“I was alive once.”
“Fair point.”
Silence settled again.
Not uncomfortable this time.
Just… strange.
Adrian walked toward the window.
Or rather, glided.
He stared down at the Brooklyn streetlights glowing below.
“This city changed.”
“Yeah.”
“Yet some things remain.”
His gaze shifted toward her.
“Loneliness.”
The word hung between them.
Isabelle looked away first.
“Well.”
She cleared her throat.
“That got depressing fast.”
Adrian’s expression softened.
“Forgive me.”
“You’re a ghost with a tragic backstory.”
She waved a hand.
“Depressing comes with the job description.”
Another small smile appeared on his lips.
Then—
The apartment door opened.
Isabelle jumped.
Dylan walked inside carrying a paper bag of takeout.
“Hey, Belle—”
He froze mid-sentence.
His eyes landed on Adrian.
For one single second—
Pure shock flashed across Dylan’s face.
Then it disappeared.
Replaced by his usual charming smile.
“Well,” Dylan said slowly.
“This is unexpected.”
Isabelle stood up quickly.
“You can see him?”
Dylan set the bag on the table.
“Hard not to.”
He turned toward Adrian.
His gaze sharpened.
Calculating.
Assessing.
Like a predator studying prey.
Adrian’s posture changed subtly.
His shoulders straightened.
His eyes darkened.
Something tense crackled in the air.
Isabelle frowned.
“Okay… why do I suddenly feel like I walked into the middle of a fight?”
Dylan chuckled lightly.
“No fight.”
His eyes never left Adrian.
“Just curiosity.”
Adrian’s voice turned colder.
“You shouldn’t be able to see me.”
Dylan shrugged.
“Maybe I’m special.”
The smile on his face didn’t reach his eyes.
Adrian stepped closer.
His voice dropped.
“You’re not human.”
The words hit the room like thunder.
Isabelle blinked.
“…what?”
Dylan sighed.
“Wow. Straight to the point, huh?”
He rolled his shoulders lazily.
“Fine.”
His gaze slid toward Isabelle.
“Looks like the secret’s out.”
Isabelle’s stomach twisted.
“What secret?”
Dylan’s smile widened.
Slow.
Dangerous.
“Belle.”
His eyes gleamed.
“You didn’t really think meeting me three years ago was a coincidence… did you?”
A cold dread crept up Isabelle’s spine.
Adrian moved instantly.
He stepped between them.
His expression turned lethal.
“What are you?”
Dylan’s smile sharpened into something monstrous.
“Let’s just say…”
His voice dropped to a whisper.
“I’ve been waiting a very long time to find Adrian Laurent.”
Isabelle’s heart stopped.
The room suddenly felt too small.
Too dangerous.
And for the first time since she moved into Apartment 307—
She realized the ghost might not be the most dangerous thing in her life.