Chapter 9 - Too Close to Pretend

The mornings in the penthouse were no longer peaceful. It was quiet, and the silence felt suffocating.

Emma sat at her desk in the study, flipping through briefing notes. The sun came in through the wide windows, warming the floor, but she still felt cold. Her focus drifted. The words on the page refused to stay still. She glanced at the clock. A little past ten.

Maria had gone out to run errands. Ace had meetings all morning and most of the afternoon. She expected the apartment to stay quiet.

So when the doorbell rang, she froze, then stood up, smoothed her skirt, and walked to the door. She didn’t recognize the shape behind the frosted glass until she opened it just a little.

There he was. Rafael.

He stood casually, dressed in jeans and a half-buttoned shirt, holding a white box in both hands. His was smiling warmly. There was something behind his smile. He looked like someone who didn’t care about being invited in, as long as he was being noticed. “Surprise,” Rafael said. “I brought these chocolate cake you used to like.”

Emma stared at him. “What are you doing here?”

Rafael leaned slightly against the doorframe. “I was nearby. Thought I’d stop by.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Nearby? You flew across the country to be ‘nearby’?”

“You have been avoiding my calls,” he replied, as if it explained everything. “I figured showing up in person might get your attention.”

“It won’t,” she said flatly.

Rafael’s gaze moved past her shoulder into the apartment. “So this is it. New life. Expensive apartment . Where’s your husband?”

She didn’t respond.

He smirked. “Are you going to tell Blacke i came by?”

Emma tightened her grip on the door. “You need to leave, Rafael.”

He didn’t move. “I saw the pictures of you and your new family at your fancy garden party. You and him, pretending to be in love. Must be exhausting.”

“You don’t know anything about my life anymore,” Emma said.

He took a step forward. “If this marriage is real, why aren’t you looking happy?”

That was it.

Without raising her voice, Emma pushed the pastry box into his chest. “Get off my doorstep.”

He took the box but still held her gaze. “You can’t fake your way through a life, Emma. Eventually, it falls apart.”

Emma shut the door in his face. Her hands shook for a moment. She leaned against the door, steadying her breath, then walked to her bedroom. She didn’t cry. But the feeling was there, heavy in her chest.

When Ace returned to the penthouse that evening, he noticed it at once. The air felt different. like something had passed through and stayed behind.

Maria met him near the entrance, holding a sealed envelope. “This came for you,” she said gently.

Ace took it and recognized the handwriting right away. Inside was a single photo: Rafael, standing in front of their building that morning, holding pastries. On the back, one sentence was typed neatly.

Thought you might want to know who’s visiting your wife.

Ace stared at it for a long time. His chest felt tight. His mind was calm, but his thoughts moved fast. The sender didn’t have to sign the message. He knew it was Patricia. She had eyes on everything. She didn’t want him to fall for Emma. She wanted to pull them apart before they even had a chance to become real.

Ace put the photo in his jacket pocket and walked to Emma’s room. He knocked once. She opened the door slowly, dressed simply, her face unreadable.

“I got a package today,” he said, holding out the photo.

“Who sent it?” Emma asked.

“There was no sender iformation on it , but i know it was from patricia. I recognised her handwriting.”

Emma glanced at it. “Rafael came by this morning,” she said. “I didn’t let him in.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ace asked, voice steady.

Emma crossed her arms. “Because he is not important. And maybe… because I didn’t want you asking why he still bothers me.”

Ace’s eyes didn’t move from her face. “He’s out of line. That stops now.”

“And so is Patricia,” Emma said.

“I’ll handle her,” he replied. “Whatever she’s trying to do, won’t work.”

“You say that, but you’re still holding the photo and still angry. What Patricia is trying to do is obviously working. You care that Rafael came. You care that I didn’t tell you.”

Ace didn’t deny it. “Yes. I care.” He looked at her. This marriage may be false, but it is our false. No outsider has the right to determine how our marriage will play out. The decision is solely ours.”

She didn’t smile. But her eyes softened, just slightly. Then, without another word, she stepped back and closed her door gently.

Ace remained in the hallway for a long minute, photo still in hand.

Later that night, Ace stood in front of the fireplace, throwing the pieces of the photo into the fire. The photo burned slowly in the small flame, curling into ash. He didn’t watch it disappear. He only waited until it was gone.

Then he took out his phone and called Brian. “Get me everything on Rafael’s last two months,” he said. “Flights, hotels, cars. Everything.”

Brian paused. “Is this about Emma?”

Ace answered calmly. “It’s about keeping things in order.”

“And Rafael?” Brian asked.

“Rafael is not the real problem,” Ace said after a pause. “I am.”

Brian didn’t respond, but the silence between them said he understood.

—--------------------

Emma lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Her mind ran through the day, Rafael’s face, his voice, and the way Ace had looked at her. with anger and judgment. But that wasn't the worst part; it was the fact that he cared.

Across the apartment, Ace stood at the tall window, looking out at the city. The buildings glowed. Cars moved like tiny dots far below. But none of that mattered. He wasn’t watching the city. He was thinking about Emma. About everything. The distance between them wasn’t space anymore. It was silence. And that silence was starting to shift.

Ace wasn’t the same man anymore. He had found someone he didn’t want to lose. He wasn’t going to fight Rafael with shouting or threats. He didn’t need to. Power didn’t live in noise. It lived in action. He would make sure Emma knew she was safe. Not because of the contract or because of duty. But because she meant something to him. He wasn’t loud about it. But he was clear. No one would get close to her again without going through him first.

The next morning, Emma found a small note slipped under her bedroom door. It was written in Ace’s handwriting.

Security upgrades start today. You’re not alone.

– A.

Emma stared at the note for a long time. She just stood there holding it, reading it again and again. It was just one sentence that told her more than any photo or visitor ever could. She smiled to herself, a quiet one, the kind that only came when no one else was looking. Maybe, just maybe, this marriage had started as a contract. But now, it felt like something more. It felt like the beginning of something real.