CHAPTER 7

Emma's POV:

The house was silent when I returned, as expected. No warm welcomes, no footsteps rushing to greet the new bride.

And frankly, I preferred it this way.

At least I wouldn't have to put up another show. 

I stepped inside, and my gaze instantly found him. 

Xeros was still in his wedding suit, the jacket unbuttoned. He was sitting on the leather couch in the living room, with his head bent and eyes fixed on his phone screen. 

His eyebrows were pulled together in a frown, and at that moment, he seemed much more human than before. 

I cleared my throat lightly. 

“Is everything alright? I know you didn’t agree to the wedding willingly, but—”

His head snapped up, and his body language stiffened. 

“I don’t think we are close enough to make such assumptions about each other, or for such superficial displays of concern.”

His voice was like frostbite– these were the first words he had spoken since ‘I do’. 

"Just play the role of my wife in public, and in private, we'll live our own separate lives. So spare me the formalities."

Still, I managed a small smile. 

“I know. I wanted to say the same thing before you interrupted me. We are just fulfilling mutual needs, so you can be assured that I don't expect anything more from this marriage.”

I turned slightly, already making my way toward the hallway, not bothering to look back.

“Wait!” 

He said suddenly, “Did you embroider the design on your wedding dress yourself?”

So, he had really noticed the vines I had stitched along the bottom, to cover Charlotte’s cuts. 

My heartbeat sped up. I didn't want him to find out that the dress had been damaged before the wedding… it would end up raising questions about my identity. 

‘Be calm, Emma. You can handle it.’

I lifted my shoulders into a light shrug.

“Yes. I just thought the original design was a bit plain for my taste, so I decided to add my own touch to it.”

His sharp eyes narrowed slightly. 

“But this is just an empty marriage, arranged for the convenience of our families. Why did you bother with such gestures?”

I smiled, meeting his gaze without hesitation.

“If I show up to something, I believe in giving it my all– whether it’s a business deal or an arranged marriage. Half-hearted efforts aren't worth it in my opinion, for example, you wouldn’t want the guests to think your wife didn’t even give a damn about her own wedding dress, would you?”

Xeros regarded me with a strange look in his eyes, as if he was trying to test the sincerity of my words. 

For a moment, I expected him to toss another question at me. But then he turned away and muttered, 

“Nobody would care about that, it’s just a waste of your effort.”

I let the insult slide off like water on glass.

“Where would I be sleeping?” 

Xeros glanced at the maid hovering nearby and spoke in a low whisper, 

“Miss Miller, I don’t have any intention of spreading rumours amongst the staff that I'll be living separately from my wife.”

He addressed the maid on a louder note. 

"Take my wife's luggage to the master bedroom!”

My new life was all about keeping up appearances, and the sooner I accept it, the better. 

In any case, he was impotent, so it didn’t matter which room I slept in. A gilded cage was still a cage, but at least this one didn't have teeth to bite.  

I wanted to leave, but I found a strange curiosity tugging at my heart. 

I paused, glanced back at him.

“Can I… have a look around?” 

Xeros didn’t even look up from his phone, and said flatly;

“You’re the mistress of this house now. You don’t need to ask me for permission to do anything around here. Just don't mess with my stuff.”

“Right.”

I murmured under my breath, before turning away and taking the staircase. 

The long hallway upstairs was lined with doors, and decorated with expensive art that somehow felt soulless. 

The maid dropped off my luggage in the master bedroom, and I sat down at the edge of the bed with a thump. The curtains were drawn tightly shut, keeping every trace of sunlight out of the spacious room.

One glance around the room was enough to give me the idea that someone had flipped through a catalogue, stopped at a random page, and ordered the entire layout to be copied and pasted here. 

I felt the sudden urge to leave this room, and found myself walking down the hallway. The different rooms were more of the same: pages torn out of the same catalogue. 

Every room held the same bleak ambiance: grey curtains, dull lighting, and expensive pieces of furniture which looked untouched. 

The house felt like it was a fake model put up for an open auction. 

There were practically no personal touches, no warmth or memories. Just bleak shadows that made the house as lifeless as its owner.

I was about to give up and go back to the bedroom, when a specific room piqued my interest. 

A dark mahogany desk was pushed up against the wall; with a simple MacBook placed on top of it, along with a neat stack of documents. Judging by the setting, I had stumbled into Xeros' study. 

There was a bookshelf lining the opposite wall, where rows of business titles, financial strategy, and leadership manuals lined the shelves. But one caught my eye: a pink book, which looked completely out of place.

It was tucked between two thick volumes, its cover wrinkled and faded at the edges. My curiosity got the better of me, and I found myself reaching for the book. 

On the cover, was a cartoon illustration of a bear and a tiger. A children's book? Why did someone like Xeros have a book like this inside his study?

I flipped it open, turning the pages absentmindedly as some words began to register in my mind with a vague sense of familiarity. 

As I turned another page, my fingers brushed against something thick… a folded piece of drawing paper folded in half and tucked carefully between two pages. 

I pinched the edge of the drawing paper, slowly pulling it free, but before I could get a single glimpse of it—

“What the hell are you doing?”

I looked up, startled. 

Xeros was standing in the doorway, his gaze locked onto the book in my hands. 

“I—I wasn’t intending to—” 

I began, quickly lowering the book, but it was too late. In just two strides, he crossed the room, snatching it from my grip.  

“Didn’t I tell you not to touch my stuff?”

He snapped, his voice filled with unspoken accusations that shook me from the core. 

“I’m sorry!” I said quickly. “I was just curious about—”

He cut in coldly. 

“The next time you find yourself getting curious about me, it'll be better to stop before you take a single step. This is my last warning. Stay out of my business.”

He turned on his heel, walking over to the desk and pulling open a drawer. The book disappeared inside with a thud, followed by the sharp click of a lock.  

He slid the key into his pocket and stormed off, leaving me standing there with an unspoken tension weighing on my chest.