Ch3 - Cold Marriage

"Bang."

The crisp knock of the gavel echoed through the hall.

Final bid: 3.2 million dollars.

The pair of earrings—unsurprisingly—fell into Raphael’s hands.

"Thank you. Tonight wouldn’t have gone so smoothly without you." Lydia smiled as she departed, flanked by her assistant and security detail.

"Just doing what I was asked."

Raphael had merely been fulfilling a request—escorting an important client’s wife and securing the item she desired. Winning a woman’s favor had nothing to do with him.

That honor belonged to someone else—Mr. Bellington, Lydia’s husband, a man who held dominion over much of Australia’s mining industry.

Raphael had never gone to such lengths for anyone.

Not even for his own wife.

Their marriage was nothing more than a civil arrangement—polite, distant, mutually indifferent.

As Lydia’s silhouette disappeared beyond the grand hall, Raphael turned back toward the room, searching for one particular figure.

But the seat where she had been sitting was now empty.

Dana hadn’t won the bid for what she wanted tonight.

But she had stumbled upon something even more entertaining.

Catching up with Grace before she could leave, she sighed with exaggerated regret.

"Ah, what a shame. Your husband ended up buying those earrings after all."

She tilted her head, smiling sweetly, but her eyes gleamed with mischief.

"You’re so lucky, Grace. And here I thought you didn’t even know he was back! You little liar."

The faint relaxation in Grace’s expression vanished immediately.

Her lips curled up just slightly, but there was not a trace of a smile in her eyes.

Dana had come solely to taunt her—to watch her falter, to see her mask slip.

But Grace knew all too well—whether Raphael had bought those earrings for a movie star or some other woman, it had absolutely nothing to do with her.

Her dynamic with Dana was an oddly delicate one—outwardly warm, yet beneath the surface, a never-ending rivalry disguised as friendship.

Bound by their equal wealth and status, they couldn’t openly turn against each other—not yet, at least.

Their lives had always intertwined, their paths overlapping since childhood.

Competing over grades, skiing, horseback riding—in adulthood, it was about who commanded more attention, who owned rare treasures, and now, who had the better husband.

How pointless.

Grace stifled a yawn.

She didn’t even bother coming up with an excuse.

If Dana wanted to think she had won, then let her.

She certainly wasn’t expecting her ever-absent husband to suddenly change character overnight.

Soft classical music still played in the background.

Grace lifted her lashes lazily—only to see Dana’s expression suddenly freeze.

What now?

She followed Dana’s gaze, only for a warm, weighty presence to settle onto her shoulder.

Bare skin met the heat of a firm palm.

Had Raphael’s voice not sounded at that exact moment, she might have actually jumped.

This was insane.

"Are you ready to go?"

His voice was deep, rich—calm and familiar, like this was just another ordinary evening for a husband and wife.

For one long second, Grace’s mind completely blanked.

She turned her head as naturally as she could, and even in three-inch heels, she still had to tilt her chin up.

Before her, a face sculpted to impossible perfection loomed close, magnified in her vision.

She had only truly lived with this man for two weeks.

And her assessment of him had been simple—

Raphael Sterling was a master of appearances.

Poised, courteous, untouchable.

He never misstepped, never revealed too much, never gave away anything beyond what was necessary.

Like a storm cloud heavy with rain, but never breaking.

He would offer just enough to be polite—but nothing more.

Even now, his hand rested only lightly on her shoulder, the weight of it barely there.

But his gestures were immaculate—a slight nod toward Dana, a composed greeting, effortlessly refined.

He was only four years older than her, yet he carried himself with the unshakable composure of a man a decade ahead of his peers.

Grace knew the rules of this game.

Raphael had given her face, and she would return the favor—especially with Dana still watching.

Their eyes met.

His gray-blue gaze was unreadable.

Grace blinked once, then smoothly shifted her focus to the bridge of his nose instead of his eyes.

"Sure," she said, her voice sweet as honey.

"I was just finishing up with my friend."

It was almost comical—how different they seemed now, standing together like this, compared to just an hour ago, when she had only just learned he was back.

Dana was momentarily stunned.

She had to admit—at this distance, Raphael Sterling was breathtaking.

His presence commanded attention effortlessly.

Even she had been momentarily distracted.

Grace found herself vaguely grateful for his well-timed entrance—saving her from a question she had no way of answering.

Even if that question had only come up because of him.

"Dana."

Grace turned back to her, her expression serene.

Dana snapped back to reality, half-narrowing her eyes as she studied them again.

She didn’t find what she had been hoping for.

Instead, what she saw was a flawless display—a husband and wife standing together, a vision of effortless elegance.

She clenched her teeth.

If she had known things would turn out like this, she would have brought her own husband tonight.

"You said your husband wasn’t romantic." Dana laughed lightly. "You almost had me fooled."

Grace stilled for a fraction of a second.

Did Dana really just repeat her words in front of this man?

Would Raphael think she had been badmouthing him behind his back?

Grace forced a chuckle.

"You always know how to tease me."

Her tone was light, casual, dismissive.

"But I really should get going. My husband just landed, I’m sure he’s exhausted."

She tilted her head toward Raphael, her voice soft and affectionate.

"Isn’t that right, darling?"

A beautiful face.

A beautiful smile.

And a voice laced with honey.

For half a second, Raphael’s back stiffened.

Then, just as quickly, he recovered.

He never understood the intricacies of these games women played—but still, he humored her.

"Mmm."

The fingers on Grace’s shoulder tightened slightly—just enough for her to feel the dry warmth of his touch, enough to send a faint ticklish sensation through her skin.

Grace resisted the urge to pull away.

She just wanted to leave.

Dana had lost interest.

"I should go too—wouldn’t want my husband to miss me too much."

Grace, internally, rolled her eyes so hard they almost got stuck.

The two women exchanged polite, insincere smiles.

Grace let Raphael guide her out of the venue, his arm loosely around her as they made their way through the crowd.

The Bentley was already waiting at the entrance.

The chauffeur, ever composed, swiftly opened the rear door.

The moment the door shut, enclosing them in the plush interior, Grace exhaled—finally free to drop the mask she had been wearing all evening.

She rubbed her cheeks—her face actually hurt from smiling too much.

Leaning back into her seat, she immediately reclaimed her personal space. The gap between her and Raphael was wide—

And just like that, the distant, unfamiliar silence settled back in.

Their usual dynamic.

The cold, indifferent version of their marriage.

Without a word, Grace reached for a tissue and swiftly removed her contact lenses, blinking a few times as relief washed over her.

At last, her eyes could breathe.

The partition between the driver and the back seat rose slowly.

Only then did she catch it—the faint trace of cologne in the air.

The scent…

Familiar.

She turned her head slightly, lips parting as if to say something—

But in the end, she swallowed the thought.

One of them stared ahead, the other gazed out the window, watching as the city lights flickered past.

The streets were alive—young people spilling out of bars, laughing, drinking, celebrating.

In stark contrast, the atmosphere inside the car was eerily still.

Then—

"Do you like the earrings?"

His voice broke the silence—deep, smooth, unreadable.

Grace hadn't expected him to bring it up, let alone catch what Dana had said earlier.

Without turning her head, she quickly brushed it aside.

"No. Don’t worry. Whoever you bought them for, it’s none of my business."

Her posture remained the same—facing the window, as if the passing cityscape held infinite fascination.

Raphael's brow furrowed ever so slightly.

He couldn’t tell if her light, detached tone was genuine—or if there was a trace of something else beneath it.

By nature, he wasn’t someone who offered explanations. He had never felt the need to.

But she was his wife.

That made things… different.

"Lydia’s husband asked me to bid on them." He paused, deliberately omitting the name. "He’s one of our major clients."

Raphael paused for a moment, deliberately leaving out the client’s name..

The mining industry was a breeding ground for envy and rivalry, and discretion was paramount.

This was precisely why the Bellingtons had kept a low profile despite being married for years.

A beat of silence.

Then—

"Mm."

A short, indifferent acknowledgment.

Grace didn't press further.

The car slipped back into wordless stillness.

Raphael glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

Her lashes fluttered shut, her head tilting slightly against the seat.

She must be tired.

A sliver of city light filtered in through the tinted window, casting a soft glow across her face—the striking contours, the curve of her lips.

His gaze lingered for a second too long before he pulled it away, shifting subtly in his seat.

But then, without meaning to, his attention drifted downward—to her hands.

Slender fingers, elegantly intertwined.

Adorned in luxury, glittering jewels.

But—

No wedding ring.

His eyes darkened slightly.

The memory of her delayed recognition earlier that night replayed in his mind.

Combined with what his family had told him…

A thought settled, unspoken, at the back of his mind.