ELENA'S POINT OF VIEW
Four days.
Four days since Alex had almost kissed me.
Four days since he'd leaned so close I could feel his breath on my lips.
Four days since he'd looked at me like I was something other than an obligation.
And in those four days, I'd barely seen him.
He left for work before I woke up. Came home long after I'd gone to bed. The few times I caught glimpses of him in the hallway, he looked through me like I was invisible.
It hurt more than I wanted to admit.
I kept replaying that moment in my head. The way he'd stared at my lips. The way he'd leaned in. The heat I'd felt radiating between us.
Had I imagined it?
Maybe I had. Maybe I'd wanted it so badly that I'd convinced myself it was real.
I didn't know anymore.
This morning, I woke up early. I couldn't sleep. My mind wouldn't stop spinning.
I went downstairs to make coffee, hoping the routine would calm me.
But when I stepped outside, he was there.
He sat beneath a sleek, modern gazebo. Its polished marble pillars glint in the morning light. The open structure stood at the edge of the garden, draped with delicate white curtains that swayed gently in the breeze. Climbing roses framed the sides, their scent mingling with the fresh air. An elegant glass table sat at the center, paired with deep, cushioned chairs that looked more suited for a designer lounge than a backyard.
He was perfectly dressed in one of his tailored dark suits, casually scrolling through a tablet. A steaming cup of coffee rested beside him.
He looked up when I appeared.
Our eyes met.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then he looked back down at his tablet.
"Good morning," I said quietly.
"Morning."
His voice was flat. Empty.
I walked to the coffee pot and poured myself a cup, my hands shaking slightly.
The silence was suffocating.
I sat down across from him, cradling the warm mug between my palms.
He didn't look up.
Just kept reading.
I took a sip of coffee. Then another. Trying to find the courage to say something. Anything.
But before I could, he spoke.
"There's a charity gala on Saturday."
I looked up. "A gala?"
"Yes." He set down his tablet, his eyes finally meeting mine. "It's for children's hospital funding. High profile. The media will be there."
He paused.
"You'll attend with me."
Not asking. Telling.
"Okay," I said carefully.
"It starts at seven. The stylist will come on Friday to prepare you." His tone was businesslike. Clinical. "Dress appropriately. Behave appropriately. Smile when necessary."
Each word felt like an instruction. A command.
"Act like we're happily married," he continued. "Don't embarrass me."
The words stung more than they should have.
I nodded. "I understand."
He stood, picking up his tablet and briefcase.
"Good."
He walked past me without another word. Without looking back.
I heard the front door open and close.
And I was alone again.
Friday came quickly.
A team of stylists arrived at the mansion, carrying garment bags and makeup cases. They set up in one of the guest rooms, transforming it into a temporary salon.
I tried on several gowns. Each one is more expensive than anything I'd ever worn in my life.
We settled on a deep emerald dress. Floor length. Elegant. It hugged my body perfectly, flowing out at the hips like water.
"Mr. Reyes will love this one," the stylist said with a smile.
I doubted that.
Saturday evening, I stood in front of the mirror, barely recognizing myself.
My shoulder-length hair was styled in soft waves, pinned elegantly to one side. My makeup was flawless. The dress fit like it had been made for me.
I looked beautiful.
But I didn't feel beautiful.
I felt like I was wearing a costume. Playing a part in a play I didn't audition for.
A knock on the door made me turn.
Alex stepped inside.
He was dressed in a black tuxedo, perfectly tailored. His hair was styled back. He looked devastatingly handsome.
For a moment, he just stared at me.
His eyes traveled from my face down to the dress, then back up again.
Something flickered in his expression. Something I couldn't read.
Then it was gone.
"Ready?" he asked.
His voice was cold again. Distant.
"Yes," I whispered.
We drove to the venue in silence.
The charity gala was held at one of the most exclusive hotels in the city. As we pulled up, I saw the red carpet stretching from the entrance to the street.
Paparazzi lined both sides, cameras ready.
My stomach twisted with nerves.
"Remember," Alex said as the car stopped. "Smile."
The door opened.
Alex stepped out first, then reached back to help me.
The moment my hand touched his, cameras started flashing.
Bright lights. Voices shouting.
"Mr. Reyes! Over here!"
"Mrs. Reyes! Look this way!"
"How long have you been married?"
Alex's hand moved to my waist, pulling me close to his side.
I felt his fingers press against my hip. Possessive. Controlling.
I forced a smile.
"Smile wider," he murmured in my ear.
I did.
We walked down the red carpet together, pausing for photos. Alex didn't smile. Not once. Just that cold, stoic expression he wore like armor.
But his hand never left my waist.
Inside, the ballroom was breathtaking.
Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting warm light over everything. Tables were decorated with white roses and gold accents. A live orchestra played soft music in the corner.
Waiters in black uniforms carried trays of champagne.
Everyone here looked wealthy. Important. Like they belonged.
And I felt like an imposter.
Alex guided me through the crowd, his hand still on my back.
People approached us constantly.
"Alexander! Wonderful to see you."
"Congratulations on your marriage."
"You must introduce us to your beautiful wife."
Alex introduced me over and over.
Business partners. Investors. Friends.
I smiled. Shook hands. Said all the right things.
But Alex's hand stayed on me the entire time. Like he was afraid I'd run if he let go.
An older woman in a glittering gold dress approached us, her smile wide and curious.
"Alexander, darling! And this must be the lovely Elena."
"Mrs. Whitmore," Alex said politely. "Good to see you."
"You two make such a stunning couple." She looked between us with sparkling eyes. "Tell me, have you gone on your honeymoon yet?"
I froze.
Honeymoon.
We hadn't even discussed it. Because this wasn't a real marriage.
"We've been too busy," Alex said smoothly. "Work has been demanding. But we'll take one soon."
Mrs. Whitmore tsked. "Oh, you must! Newlyweds need that special time together. It's so important for building your foundation as a couple."
She patted my arm. "Don't let him work too much, dear. Make sure you get that honeymoon."
I forced a smile. "I will."
She walked away, and I felt the tension radiating from Alex.
His hand tightened on my waist.
Neither of us said anything.
The auction began shortly after.
We took our seats at a table near the front. Alex pulled out my chair, playing the role of attentive husband perfectly.
But when he sat beside me, there was a foot of space between us.
The auctioneer took the stage, and the bidding started.
Luxury watches. Designer jewelry. Exclusive artwork.
Alex bid on a few items, his paddle rising with casual confidence. Showing off his wealth. Maintaining his image.
Then the auctioneer announced the next item.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, we have something truly special. A two-week vacation to a private island in the Maldives. Luxury villa. Private beach. Chef included. The perfect romantic getaway."
Images of crystal blue water and white sand appeared on the screens around the room.
"Perfect for a honeymoon," the auctioneer added with a wink.
Several people glanced our way.
The bidding started.
Alex raised his paddle.
Someone else bid higher.
Alex bid again.
Back and forth. Higher and higher.
I watched him, confused. Why was he bidding on this? We'd never use it.
Finally, the other bidder dropped out.
"Sold! To Mr. Alexander Reyes!"
Applause filled the room.
People at nearby tables smiled at us.
"Perfect timing!" someone called out.
"Now you have your honeymoon planned!"
Alex's expression didn't change.
He just nodded politely.
But I felt the irony like a weight on my chest.
A romantic vacation we'd never take.
Another lie added to the pile.
As the auction continued, I excused myself to use the restroom.
When I returned, I saw someone approaching our table.
Nathan.
He looked handsome in his tuxedo, his expression warm as always.
"Alex. Elena."
Alex's entire body went rigid beside me.
"Nathan." His voice was ice.
Nathan smiled at me. "Elena, you look beautiful tonight."
"Thank you," I said quietly.
"How's training going?" he asked. "I heard you've been improving."
"It's going well…"
"She's doing fine," Alex interrupted, standing abruptly. His hand gripped my elbow. "We need to speak to someone. Excuse us."
He pulled me away before I could say goodbye. I couldn't even see Nathan's expression.
"Alex, that was rude."
"I don't care."
We moved to another section of the ballroom, away from Nathan.
Alex's jaw was clenched so tight I thought it might break.
"You didn't have to be so cold to him," I said.
"I told you to stay away from him."
"He approached us. I didn't."
"It doesn't matter. I don't want you talking to him."
"He's your friend."
"Not anymore."
The finality in his voice silenced me.
We stood there in tense silence.
Then Alex stiffened beside me.
His hand on my waist tightened. Painfully.
I looked up at him. "Alex?"
His face had gone pale.
His eyes were fixed on something across the room.
I followed his gaze.
A woman had just entered the ballroom.
She was beautiful. Stunning, even. Dark hair styled elegantly. A silver dress that shimmered under the lights. Confidence. Graceful.
She looked around the room, her eyes scanning the crowd.
Then they landed on Alex.
She smiled.
And started walking toward us.
"Alex?" I whispered. "Who is that?"
He didn't answer.
Just stared.
The woman reached us, her smile warm and genuine.
"Hello, Alexander."
Her voice was soft. Familiar.
Like she'd said his name a thousand times before.
Alex's throat worked as he swallowed.
"Hello, Miss Morrison."
Miss Morrison.
The woman turned to me, her smile widening.
"And you must be Elena. I'm Mia Morrison."
Mia.
My heart stopped.
Mia.
The woman from the letters.
The woman in the photograph with the burned out face.
Mia was here.
Standing right in front of me.
"It's wonderful to finally meet you," Mia said, her tone genuinely warm. "I've seen you in the news. You and Alexander make such a beautiful couple."
I couldn't speak.
Couldn't breathe.
I just stared at her.
Mia looked at Alex, something soft and wistful in her eyes.
"It's been a long time, hasn't it?"
"Yes," Alex said, his voice strained. "It has."
Mia turned back to me. "Alexander and I were very close once. A lifetime ago, it feels like."
She laughed softly, but there was something sad in it.
"I hope you don't mind me saying hello. I've been away for a while, and when I heard Alexander had gotten married, I just had to come back and meet the woman who captured his heart."
Captured his heart.
If only she knew.
"You're even more beautiful than the photos," Mia continued. "He's a lucky man."
She looked at Alex meaningfully.
"I hope we can all have dinner sometime. Catch up properly. I'd love to get to know you better, Elena."
Her smile was kind. Genuine.
But something about this felt wrong.
"That would be lovely," I heard myself say.
Mia touched my arm gently. "Wonderful. I'll leave you two to enjoy your evening. It was so nice meeting you."
She walked away, her silver dress catching the light.
I turned to Alex.
He was still staring after her.
His expression was unreadable. But his eyes... his eyes held something I'd never seen before.
Pain.
Raw, unguarded pain.
"Alex," I whispered.
He blinked, the mask slamming back into place.
"We're leaving."
"What? But…"
"Now."
His hand gripped mine, and he pulled me toward the exit.
I looked back over my shoulder.
Mia stood across the room, watching us leave.
Still smiling.
Like she knew exactly what she'd done.