Chapter 2

Standing at the kitchen island, Silas skillfully stirred a spoonful of honey into some water that had been heated to about 115 degrees Fahrenheit. It was the precise temperature he'd arrived at after three years of trial and error.

When it was too hot, Teresa would frown in displeasure. Too cold, and it would aggravate the stomach she had already destroyed with years of iced coffees and way too much booze during the dinner meetings she attended for business.

By the time he carried the cup out of the kitchen, the situation in the bathroom had already settled down.

Louisa was half-supporting, half-carrying Teresa as she carefully helped her onto the oversized leather couch in the living room.

"Lean back slowly, Ms. Sloan."

After exhaling a breath, with astonishing efficiency, Louisa took out a silver pill case from her tote bag, which seemed to contain anything one could possibly need. She popped two pills into Teresa's mouth before expertly propping her chin up while holding a bottle of water to her lips.

"Mr. Langston."

Out of the corner of her eye, Louisa spotted Silas approaching. She glanced at the cup of honey water he was holding for precisely one second before giving him a courteous smile.

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Langston. Ms. Sloan emptied her stomach earlier. I've already given her an imported liver supplement and hangover relief medicine. She might end up having acid reflux if she drinks something that sweet right now."

Silas's hand froze in midair. The warmth of the cup slowly seeped away through his palm. Out of nowhere, he felt like the lowly intern who'd brought coffee to the meeting room, only to be told by the manager that his involvement wasn't needed.

He looked at his wife, whose eyes were shut and brows tightly furrowed. Louisa was crouched beside her, tending to her every need with textbook expertise. All he could do was give an awkward hum of acknowledgment before setting down the cup on the edge of the coffee table.

"Is there anything in Teresa's itinerary tomorrow that requires my involvement?"

Standing here, in what was supposed to be their home, Silas attempted to forcibly reclaim a tiny sense of participation as Teresa's husband.

While finally helping Teresa out of her high heels and retrieving a pair of indoor slippers for her, Louisa swiftly completed her "handover" for the night.

"I've already informed everyone that tomorrow morning's 10:00 am meeting has been postponed to 10:30 am. I'll have the secretary send any urgent files that come in the morning directly to Ms. Sloan's tablet. In the afternoon, Ms. Sloan has two international video conferences to attend…"

Pausing, Louisa glanced at the memo on her phone.

"As for the welcome back party tomorrow evening, the outfit will be sent to the house at 3:00 pm, and the stylist will arrive at 4:00 pm. You'll probably need to set aside your time tomorrow to accompany her, Mr. Langston."

Without even opening her eyes, Teresa gave a faint hum, which sufficed as her approval for the itinerary.

That hum sounded a little grating to Silas' ears.

Right here, in this massive apartment, he'd just witnessed Louisa's all-encompassing knowledge of Teresa's wants and needs, right down to the minutes and milligrams.

She knew which hangover medication worked best for Teresa and which brand of bottled water suppressed the smell of alcohol most effectively. She could even organize the next day's itinerary flawlessly while her boss was blackout drunk.

Meanwhile, what did he know?

He only knew that reheated cod tasted terrible, and that the honey water he prepared had now been scientifically declared as most likely to trigger acid reflux.

As he watched the perfectly synchronized pair of superior and subordinate, he felt like an unnecessary extra in his own house.

"Well then, Mr. Langston, I'll leave Ms. Sloan in your care. I'm heading off now."

Louisa stood back up, smoothed out the wrinkles in her business suit, and switched back into her polite but detached manner.

"Thanks for your hard work, Louisa. Sorry you had to do this at this hour. Be careful on your way home," Silas said gently, dutifully playing the part of a thoughtful husband.

The front door closed, and the apartment finally fell completely silent, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning.

Silas stood still for a moment before walking over to the couch.

The domineering female CEO, whose imposing air stretched across the entire negotiation table, was now curled into a miserable little ball without the slightest concern for appearances, her brows pinched tightly enough to crush flies.

With a sigh, he bent down to pick her up. Reality quickly proved that those scenes in romance films where the male lead effortlessly scooped up a drunk heroine bridal-style were complete lies.

A fully unconscious adult was basically a sack of deadweight.

Silas took a deep breath and exerted so much force that his veins were bulging before he finally managed to hoist Teresa off the couch. His footsteps staggered as he carried her to the bed in the master bedroom.

The moment he set her down on the bed, he felt like his back was about to snap in half.

He dimmed the light in the bedroom to its lowest setting before heading into the bathroom, but he didn't just grab a towel. Any self-respecting husband knew that if he just used a warm face towel to wipe the makeup off his wife's face, he'd be making things way worse instead of actually removing anything.

With practiced familiarity, he took a bottle of cleansing oil and some cotton pads from the shelf before returning to bed and sitting on it. Despite how tedious it was, he carried out this task with extraordinary patience.

He held the cotton pads soaked with cleansing oil lightly against Teresa's eyelids, letting them dissolve the sharp eyeliner and mascara before he slowly wiped away her foundation. When the last trace of red lipstick disappeared, her pale, slightly exhausted, bare face finally emerged.

Her warm face, now without the usual intensity that came from her layer of "battle makeup", rubbed against Silas' hand, seemingly a subconscious act on her part. It was like a kitten that had finally let its guard down.

Silas' heart softened. He reached out and gently brushed aside the loose strands of hair sticking to her cheek.

Teresa abruptly parted her dry lips, her voice slurred as she murmured, "Water…"

Silas immediately got up and headed to the living room, then returned with the cup of honey water that Louisa had previously dismissed.

Who cared if it might cause acid reflux? A thirsty person needed something hydrating to drink.

"Sit up to drink, Teresa."

Silas supported the back of her head with one hand while the other brought the cup to her lips.

Teresa took large gulps and drank nearly half the cup. As the gentle sweetness slid down her throat, the deep crease between her brows finally loosened a little.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. For a moment, her gaze drifted unfocused in the dim light before gradually settling on Silas' face.

"Silas?"

Because of the alcohol, her voice was rather nasally, making her sound hoarse and exhausted.

"It's me. Are you still in any discomfort?" Silas asked as he pulled out a tissue and dabbed lightly at the corner of her mouth.

Teresa didn't answer the pointless question. She seemed to be struggling to gather a sliver of rationality from the muddy haze that was her mind right now.

After a few seconds, she rubbed her throbbing forehead and said, "Free up your schedule tomorrow evening."

Silas' hand paused, still holding the tissue.

By her tone, she wasn't asking him if he could do it. She was giving him a command. It was the same as her response to Louisa earlier.

"It's Saturday tomorrow. The first draft for a brand revamp is due for one of my clients, but I should be able to make time in the evening."

Silas placed the cup back on the bedside table and asked evenly, "What is this event that can't be avoided, that even my presence is an absolute must?"

Over the past three years, Teresa had rarely brought him to any of her business events. Her explanation was, "Everyone just attends these sorts of events to put on a show. You'd just be sitting there doing nothing. It's much better for you to stay home and do something you enjoy."

Silas had once believed she was protecting him from the greed and predatory behavior that permeated the business world. That only changed when he saw a group photo someone else had posted on social media. In the photo, Teresa stood in the center, wearing a custom evening gown. She dazzled in radiance while the young heir of a conglomerate worth tens of billions of dollars stood beside her.

Only then did it occur to him that she wasn't afraid that he might be bored at such events. It was because it brought her no merit to bring a husband like him, who spent all his time cooking and drawing, to such business engagements.

"Carlton Unger is coming back to the country tomorrow." Teresa closed her eyes again, as though even saying this to him took way too much effort. "Our circle has organized a welcome-back party for him. You're coming with me."

Silas rapidly searched his brain, going through every major figure in Bellmere's business world that he could think of. He didn't find a match.

"Who's Carlton Unger?" he asked, his tone remaining light and casual. "Which company does he run? Or is your company venturing into a new sector?"

The moment the questions left his mouth, the air in the bedroom seemed to vanish for a second. Teresa's breathing paused almost imperceptibly.

Being a designer, Silas was trained to pick up on the slightest details. It was precisely that split-second hesitation that made his nerves tense up.

Whenever she mentioned any of her business partners, even while drunk enough to vomit blood, she could recite their title, background, and shareholding percentages from memory.

But now, for once, she stalled.

A full five seconds passed before Teresa opened her eyes once more, but she didn't look at Silas. Her gaze drifted past his shoulder, staring unfocused on a patch of shadow near the ceiling.

"We were college classmates."

Just four short words were all she gave—no work title and no other explanation.

After saying that, she turned over and pulled the blanket over her, leaving Silas with only her back as she said, "I'm tired. Turn off the light."

The clock on the wall emitted a soft ticking sound.

Silas sat on the edge of the bed, noting the slight tension in her back muscles, a result of her current defensive attitude. After three years of legal cohabitation with her, he knew her body language too well.

Rather than genuinely getting ready to sleep, she'd flipped over just now to forcibly put an end to the conversation.

Why would the CEO of TRS Group need to personally welcome the return of an ordinary college classmate?

Furthermore, why was she making the unprecedented move of bringing along the husband whom she'd practically kept a secret this whole time, finally making his presence public?

But Silas didn't press any further. He knew that once Teresa unilaterally declared the conversation over, any attempt to pry her mouth open would immediately be categorized as "emotionally unstable behavior".

"Sure. Get some sleep. Good night."

He stood and walked to the door, flipping the light switch on the wall. The room instantly fell into complete darkness.

Silas quietly closed the door to the master bedroom and headed to the massive floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room.

He opened one of the windows slightly, and the early fall breeze carried a chill as it blew through the apartment. Though it cleared the lingering stench of booze, it failed to get rid of the inexplicable sense of dissonance in his heart.

"Carlton Unger…" Silas repeated the name to himself.

All along, he'd assumed the wall between him and Teresa was due to their differences in social class and wealth, along with her constant preoccupation with work.

He thought that as long as he quietly held down the fort at home, there would eventually come a time when she could finally slow down and see him there waiting for her.

But now, as he stared at the black river outside the window, he suddenly realized something. Within this marriage, where they acted more like housemates, there had always been a blind spot—a hidden area he had not been permitted to enter.

And now, the person who lived in that blind spot was coming back to the country.