ELENA'S POINT OF VIEW
I stepped through the front door, exhaustion settling into my bones in the best way possible.
Today was better. Actually better.
It wasn't perfect. But it was progress.
Real progress.
I dropped my bag by the entrance and headed straight for the kitchen. The staff was finishing their work, preparing to leave for the evening.
"I'll handle dinner tonight," I told them.
They looked surprised but nodded respectfully before leaving.
Alone in the kitchen, I pulled out ingredients and started cooking. Nothing fancy. Just pasta with vegetables and chicken. Simple. Thoughtful.
Something a wife would make for her husband.
Even if this marriage was just a contract.
I found myself humming as I worked, something I hadn't done in so long. The rhythm of chopping, stirring, and seasoning felt almost therapeutic.
Maybe today's success lifted my spirits more than I realized.
I set the table carefully, making sure everything looked nice. Alex would be home soon.
For once, I wanted to do something kind for him. Even if he'd never appreciate it.
The front door opened.
My heart jumped.
I wiped my hands on a towel and walked toward the entrance, a small smile on my face.
"Alex, you're home. I made dinner for you."
He walked right past me without a word.
Without even a glance.
My smile died on my lips.
"Alex?"
He climbed the stairs without responding, his footsteps heavy against the wood.
I stood there, confused, the towel still in my hands.
What just happened?
I went back to the kitchen, setting the towel down slowly. My earlier happiness was fading, replaced by a creeping sense of dread.
Maybe he had a bad day at work. Maybe he was just tired.
Maybe it had nothing to do with me.
I tried to convince myself of that as I finished arranging everything on the table.
Minutes crawled by.
Then I heard him coming back down.
I straightened, my hands fidgeting with the edge of my shirt.
Alex appeared in the doorway, dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and dark trousers. His hair was slightly damp like he'd splashed water on his face. But his expression... His expression was ice.
"I made dinner," I said quietly.
He walked to the table and sat down without acknowledging me.
I'd already eaten while waiting, so I took my seat across from him, folding my hands in my lap.
He picked up his fork and began eating.
Silence filled the room like a living thing.
I cleared my throat. "How was your day?"
Nothing.
He didn't even look up.
"My training went better today," I tried again. "I improved…"
Still nothing.
Just the sound of his fork scraping against the plate.
Each second of silence felt heavier than the last.
Then he set his fork down.
The sound made me flinch.
He looked up at me. His eyes were so cold they made me shiver.
"Where were you today?"
His voice was calm. Too calm.
"At training," I said carefully. "The modeling agency."
"Which agency?"
My pulse quickened.
"B…b…Blake Modeling Enterprise."
"And who owns that?"
The room felt like all the air had been sucked out of it.
He knew.
"Nathan," I whispered. "Nathan Blake."
His jaw clenched for just a moment before his expression went blank again.
"You're working for Nathan."
"I didn't know it was his company when I applied," I said quickly. "I swear, Alex. I just saw the posting and…"
"But you knew after."
"Yes today, but it's just work. Nothing more."
"Nothing more?" His voice was dangerously soft. "Then why didn't you tell me?"
"I wanted to earn it myself. Without help. Without…"
"Without me knowing."
I couldn't deny it.
"You asked him to keep it a secret from me," he continued.
My eyes widened. "How do you…"
"I know everything, Elena."
My stomach dropped like a stone.
"You hugged him."
The world tilted.
"It was just friendly," I stammered. "He was being kind."
"Kind." The word dripped with contempt. "Nathan is always kind. Always warm. Always making people feel special."
"Alex, please, it wasn't…"
"Then what was it?"
He stood.
The chair scraped loudly against the floor.
I froze.
He walked toward me, each step measured and deliberate.
My breathing quickened. I wanted to stand, to move, to run.
But I couldn't.
He stopped in front of me and leaned down.
His hands gripped the armrests of my chair on either side, caging me in completely.
His face was so close to mine. So dangerously close.
"Tell me the truth, Elena."
His voice was quiet now. Barely more than a whisper.
But it was the most terrifying sound I'd ever heard.
I looked up at him, trapped. My heart hammered against my ribs so hard it hurt.
"Are you falling for him?"
The question hung in the air between us.
I opened my mouth but nothing came out.
"Answer me." His voice was rough now. Strained. "Are you falling for Nathan?"
"No," I breathed out. "Alex, no. It's not like that…"
"Then what is it like?" He leaned in even closer. His breath ghosted across my face. "Tell me. Make me understand why my wife was in another man's arms."
Tears burned behind my eyes.
"It was just a hug," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Just a friendly hug. He was congratulating me."
"At his company. The company you chose."
"I didn't know it was his!"
"Stop lying to me!"
His voice finally broke through the cold control.
A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it.
"I'm not lying," I said, my voice shaking. "I didn't choose his company to be near him. I chose it because I wanted to prove I could do this. I wanted to earn something on my own."
"To prove what? To whom?" His eyes burned into mine. "To me? Or to him?"
Another tear fell.
Then another.
I couldn't stop them now.
"I don't..." My voice cracked. "I don't know what you want me to say."
"I want the truth."
"I'm telling you the truth!"
"Are you?" He was so close now. So impossibly close. "Because it looks like you're hiding something. Like you're protecting him."
"I'm not protecting anyone," I cried. "I just wanted to work. To do something with my life instead of sitting in this house feeling useless."
"You're my wife."
"I'm your contract!" The words burst out of me before I could stop them. "I'm not really your wife, Alex. We both know that. This is just an arrangement. Just a deal you made to save face."
His expression darkened.
"Is that what you think?"
"It's what I know," I whispered, tears streaming down my face now. "You don't care about me. You never have. You just care about appearances. About your reputation. About making sure no one knows the truth."
"The truth," he interrupted, his voice low and dangerous, "is that you're mine. Whether you like it or not. Whether this is a contract or not. You signed your name. You took my ring. You became Elena Reyes."
He leaned in closer. So close that our foreheads almost touched.
"And I don't share what's mine."
I stared up at him through my tears.
"You don't own me," I whispered.
"Don't I?"
The question sent a chill down my spine.
"You owe me everything, Elena. Your mother's life. Your freedom from debt. This roof over your head. The food you eat. The clothes you wear." His voice was quiet but every word cut like a knife. "So yes. I do own you."
The tears came harder now.
I turned my face away, unable to look at him anymore.
"Elena."
I didn't respond.
"Look at me."
I shook my head.
His hand came up. I flinched, but he didn't strike me.
He just gently turned my face back toward his.
His thumb brushed away a tear from my cheek.
The gesture was so tender that it made everything worse.
"Are you falling for him?" he asked again, his voice softer now but no less intense.
I looked into his eyes. Really looked.
And for just a moment, I saw something there that wasn't cold. Wasn't calculated.
Something raw. Something vulnerable.
Something that looked almost like... fear?
"No," I whispered. "I'm not falling for Nathan."
"Then why?" His thumb still rested against my cheek. "Why did you hide this from me? Why did you ask him to keep your secret?"
"Because..." I swallowed hard. "Because you told me to stay away from him. And I knew if you found out I was working at his company, you'd make me quit. And I... I can't quit, Alex. This is the first thing I've done in so long that made me feel like I'm not completely worthless."
His expression shifted slightly.
"You're not worthless."
"Then why do you treat me like I am?"
The question hung between us.
He didn't answer.
He just stared at me, his hand still on my cheek, his body caging me in.
"Are you falling for him?" he asked one more time. Quieter. Desperate almost.
I looked up at him through my tears.
"No," I said. "I'm not."
"Then who are you falling for?"
The question hit me like lightning.
I opened my mouth.
And closed it.
I opened it again.
But no words came out.
Because suddenly I didn't know the answer.
And that terrified me more than anything.
He stared at me, waiting.
His hand remained on my cheek, thumb resting against my tear-stained skin. The silence between us grew heavy, pressing the air from my lungs. I could hear my heartbeat, loud and uneven.
His eyes searched mine, looking for an answer, a truth, anything. I had nothing to give.
Then his gaze shifted.
From my eyes… to my lips.
My breath hitched. Time dragged, slow and suffocating. He was close, far too close. His thumb brushed toward the corner of my mouth, gentle enough to make my pulse stumble.
I couldn't think.
I couldn't move.
Something unguarded flashed across his face. Something raw. Something that looked like want.
Was he going to…?
He leaned in, just enough for me to feel his warmth, his breath brushing my lips. The world narrowed to that single point of contact, to that single possibility. I knew I should pull away, speak, anything, but I was frozen between fear and something far more dangerous.
His lips drifted closer.
Inches.
A breath.
Then he stopped.
His jaw tightened, eyes closing briefly before he forced the moment away. The coldness returned, shutting everything out. He dropped his hand as if my skin had burned him and stepped back.
"Go to bed."
His voice was flat, empty, like nothing had happened. Like he hadn't almost kissed me.
He turned and left, his footsteps echoing down the hall before his study door opened and closed. And then I was alone, sitting in a room filled with cold food and colder air.
I touched my cheek where his thumb had been. The warmth lingered. My lips still tingled from how close he'd come.
Had that really happened?
Yes. It had.
He'd looked at my lips.
He'd leaned in.
He'd wanted to.
And he'd stopped.
I rose on shaky legs and went upstairs, moving on instinct while my mind replayed the moment again and again. The look in his eyes. The breath between us. The almost.
I crawled into bed, the room dark and empty. He was downstairs in his study, probably trying to erase what nearly happened.
But I couldn't erase it.
Because now I finally knew the answer to the question he'd been silently asking me.
I wasn't falling for Nathan.
I was falling for him.
For my cold, complicated, impossible husband.
And nothing could be more dangerous.