I stared at my reflection for what felt like the hundredth time. The bathroom light was too harsh, too honest. It showed every trace of doubt I'd tried to hide in the flicker in my eyes, the tightness around my mouth.
"Don't be scared," I whispered to myself, but the tremor in my voice betrayed me. I pressed my palms to the counter, steadying myself. Fear had ruled me for too long. It was time to start pretending I wasn't its hostage.
I took a breath, squared my shoulders, and stepped away from the mirror. If courage were an act, then I was going to play the part flawlessly.
Grey was already waiting downstairs, dressed in one of his tailored black suits, crisp and deliberate. He didn't say a word when he saw me, just gave a brief nod, the kind that said Let's get this over with. That was all surface, no warmth. We played our roles in front of everyone else, and then we went back to silence.
The car ride to the meeting was tense but familiar. Grey's silence wasn't peaceful; it was sharp, full of unspoken thoughts he'd rather choke on than share. I stared out the window, pretending I didn't care. But the truth was, every minute with him felt like sitting beside a lit fuse.
The company headquarters gleamed in the afternoon light. When we stepped inside, the air shifted. Everyone noticed us. Smiles everywhere, from board members to executives and assistants, the usual chorus of politeness.
But not from my father-in-law's secretary. Her eyes lingered on me with open disapproval. She'd been with the family long before I came into the picture. I could almost hear her thoughts: You don't belong here.
I smiled anyway. People like her only saw what you let them see.
The meeting began in a sleek conference room, all glass and polished wood. They talked about profits, projections, and expansion strategies. Normally, I would've sat there quietly, waiting for it to end. But something inside me shifted. Maybe it was the way they ignored me at first or maybe I was just tired of shrinking myself.
When an idea crossed my mind, I spoke. At first, the words came hesitantly. Then firmer. Clearer. The more I talked, the more the room started to listen. Even the older board members leaned in. For once, I didn't feel like decoration. I felt like a person.
Grey noticed too. I could feel his eyes on me, sharp and assessing. There was something like surprise there, maybe even a trace of respect, though I knew he'd rather die than admit it. His jaw tightened slightly, his fingers drumming against the table. It almost made me smile.
By the end of the meeting, my heart was racing. I'd done well. But the moment we stepped out of the room, I could tell something was coming.
Grey's voice was calm when he said, "We need to talk."
It wasn't a request.
He led me down a quiet hallway, his steps purposeful, his expression unreadable. When we reached the restroom, he pushed open the door. The sudden privacy felt dangerous.
"You've forgotten your place," he said, his tone low, cold. "The company's affairs don't concern you. You're here to play your role, nothing more. Don't start confusing yourself with someone important."
I laughed a short, brittle sound that echoed off the marble walls. "My place? You mean the one where I smile and stay quiet while you pretend this marriage is real?"
His eyes darkened. "Watch yourself, Seraphim."
I took a step closer, my heart hammering but my voice steady. "You might want to remember that we both have something to lose here. The lawyer still hasn't handed you the real papers. If your father finds out this marriage is fake, he'll take everything from you. Everything you've worked for."
He froze, just for a second. It was small, but I saw the flicker of fear he tried to hide. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
I tilted my head, lowering my voice. "I'm just trying to be the loving wife you want," I said, smiling faintly. The sarcasm in my tone was impossible to miss.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke. His glare could have cut through glass. Then he turned and walked out, leaving me alone with the sound of my own heartbeat.
When we finally got outside, the tension followed us like a shadow. The sun had started to set, washing the street in orange light. We got into the car. I stared out the window again, pretending not to care.
He didn't say a word until we were halfway home.
"Can you grab the briefcase from the back?" he asked suddenly, his tone smooth — too smooth.
I nodded, unbuckled my seatbelt, and opened the door. The moment I stepped out and reached for the backseat handle, the car roared to life.
I barely had time to react before he sped off, tyres screeching.
For a moment, I just stood there. The sound of the engine faded into the distance, leaving me in silence. Then the shock turned into anger — sharp, humiliating anger. I wanted to scream. Instead, I straightened up, clutching my bag tighter. Fine. He wanted to leave me stranded? I'd find my own way home.
The city felt colder than before. I started walking, ignoring the stares, ignoring the ache in my feet. My mind replayed the scene over and over — his voice, his smirk, the way he didn't even look back. I wanted to hate him. Maybe I already did.
That was when I heard a voice behind me.
"Well, if it isn't Mrs Williams," Lucy said.
I turned, and there she was — perfectly put together, her red lips curved in that smug smile she wore like armour. She looked me over, eyes gleaming.
"Rough day? You look… abandoned."
I said nothing. She thrived on reactions.
She tilted her head, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. "It must be exhausting, keeping up the act. How long before someone finds out that your marriage is a lie?"
I stepped closer, close enough to smell her perfume. My voice came out quiet, steady, but laced with venom. "No one's going to believe a rootless whore like you."
Her smile faltered — not much, but enough. I held her gaze until she looked away first. Then I turned and walked off, leaving her standing there. My pulse was still racing, but I didn't let it show.
By the time I reached home, exhaustion had set in. My feet ached, and my nerves were raw. I wanted nothing more than to disappear into silence — maybe a bath, maybe a drink, anything that didn't involve Grey.
But when I walked into the dining room, my breath caught in my throat.
He was there.
Grey sat at the head of the table, calm, composed, eating dinner with his mother as if nothing had happened. His sleeves were rolled up, his tie loosened the picture of control. His mother smiled when she saw me, but her eyes flicked between us, sensing something wasn't right.
I froze in the doorway. Grey looked up, met my eyes, and the corner of his mouth twitched in something that wasn't quite a smile. My stomach twisted.
The shock on my face must have said everything, because his mother frowned slightly, her fork pausing mid-air. I forced a polite smile, pretending my heart wasn't pounding.
But I couldn't shake the feeling that he'd planned it all — every word, every gesture, even the cruel satisfaction of leaving me stranded. And now, sitting there like nothing had happened, he looked like the man his father wanted him to be — powerful, untouchable.
I, on the other hand, stood there feeling like a ghost in my own life.
For the first time that day, I wasn't angry.
I was afraid.
Truly, deeply afraid.
I wasn't sure which scared me more, the power he held over me, or the fact that part of me still wanted to fight him.