They hurt my Wife.

We will probably reach the destination in a while, to a place where Marcus would hate be part of. 

"How is your friend?"

"He is okay, does okay job too, he has crypto, tech startups. That kind of noise," he said, staring out. 

"And you house-sit?"

"I fix his vintage bikes. He lets me crash here when things get... loud."

I repeated the word. "Loud. Like finding a stray heiress in a rainstorm and marrying her?"

He glanced at me, a shadow of a smirk crossing his face. "Exactly like that."

The car after a while reached the place. 

"Good evening, Mr. Cr—" the doorman started. 

Sebastian coughed once and the man looking at Sebastian like this shut his mouth. 

"Just dropping off the keys, Henry. For the owner," he said loudly.

The doorman froze. He looked at Sebastian, then at me—shivering in my ruined silk—then back to Sebastian. The man was a pro. He rebooted instantly.

"Ah. Right. Of course. The keys. Right this way... sir."

I narrowed my eyes as we walked into the lobby. *Sir?* For a mechanic?

"Friendly staff," I noted. The air smelled like white tea and money.

"I fixed Henry's toaster once," Sebastian lied without blinking. He was good at this.

Elevator. Top floor. Penthouse. Naturally.

Sebastian placed his thumb on the biometric scanner.

"Wow, that's some great plan your buddy have." 

"My buddy's cautious. Guess that's what having lots does to you," he replied.

The lock hissed. The heavy door swung open.

I stepped inside and stopped.

Massive. Floor-to-ceiling glass overlooked the Manhattan skyline. The furniture was low, Italian, matte black. No photos. No clutter. No warmth. It looked like a museum exhibit titled *The Lonely Billionaire*.

"Nice. Your friend has zero personality, but great taste," I said, kicking off my ruined heels. I walked across the polished concrete, leaving wet footprints.

Sebastian locked the door. "I'll tell him you said that."

I wrapped my arms around myself. The adrenaline was crashing. The cold was setting in. My teeth clicked together.

"Shower?" I asked.

"Down the hall. Master suite," he pointed. "Robes are there, use anything in it."

Glorious.

My clothes lay in a wet, sad pile on the floor.

"Sebastian?" I called out, cracking the door.

"Yeah?" His voice came from the bedroom.

"Wardrobe malfunction. Unless your friend wears women's couture, I'm stuck."

A moment later, a hand appeared around the doorframe, holding a black dress shirt.

"Mine. Clean. Might be a tent on you," he said roughly.

I took it. "Thanks."

I slipped it on. It smelled like him—sandalwood, motor oil, rain. It swallowed me whole, the hem hitting my mid-thigh. I rolled the sleeves.

"Mrs. Cross", I thought. "Sounds heavy. Like a weapon."

I walked out.

Sebastian stood there.

He turned.

His eyes widened a fraction. His gaze traveled from my bare legs up to the oversized shirt. 

He cleared his throat, extending a glass. "Whiskey. Found it in the cabinet."

"Medicinal," I said, taking it. Our fingers brushed. Static. Heat.

I took a sip. Fire. Smooth. Top shelf.

"So, sleeping arrangements? I assume there's one bed," I said, wandering to the window.

"Three guest rooms," he said.

"Oh." I felt a pang. Relief? Disappointment?

"But they're locked. Renovations. Dust." He added words one fast. 

I turned. He was swirling his drink, looking at the floor.

I smirked. "So there is one bed."

"Couch is Italian leather. Supposed to be comfortable. I'll take it," he offered.

"No need. I'll take the sofa."

"No." His voice dropped. That tone again—the one that commanded armies, not transmissions. "You take the room, wife."

I looked at him. He looked wrecked. Beneath the sharp jawline, he was carrying something heavy. Just like me.

"Fine. But if you try to sneak in, I know Krav Maga," I said.

He smirked. "I'm trembling."

I downed the drink. "Goodnight, husband."

"Goodnight, wife."

I walked to the bedroom, climbed into the massive king. The sheets were cold silk.

I lay there for a minute before standing up. 

I walked back to the door. Sebastian was trying to get comfortable on the couch, legs hanging off the edge.

"Husband?"

He sat up fast. "What? You okay?"

"Get in here," I said, leaning on the frame.

He froze. "Sienna..."

"We aren't strangers. We're legally married. The bed is vast. That couch is torture. We're smart, we know what is right and wrong." I said.

He stared at me, stunned.

"I won't bite. Unless you snore," I added.

He looked at me for a long beat. Amusement danced in his dark eyes.

"I won't cross the line. That's a promise," he said slowly.

"Me neither."

He smiled. Real. "Give me a minute."

I went back to bed. For the first time in years, I didn't need pills to sleep. The sheets were warm. 

I let my Aunt and their family to enjoy the empire they are doing every betrayal to get hands on. 

But if they refused to let me go? If they came at me? I would collect the debt. Every single drop of it. As long as they didn't strike first, they were safe. The choice was theirs now.

Luxury. Or ruin.

In the living room, before heading to the bedroom, Sebastian waited and then he searched under the sofa, pulled a phone out, a high tech, satellite-secure device. 

As soon as the phone connected the person outside can only cry with the grace they finally blessed upon. 

"Your grandmother is roasting us, we need you. How can we operate without you?"

"I have already arranged everything before leaving. There is no work there to do. My grandmother just want to see me. Just tell her, I'll be back soon."

The person on the other side remained silent, not knowing what to say, so he can only ask for more information. 

But Sebastian's eyes travelled to the bedroom and a genuine smile rose on his lips, "I'm being the perfect partner, give me all the details about media of Vane, all the little and tremendous secrets they wish to bury"

"What happened sir?"

"They probably are waiting for their judgement, they hurt my wife, I'm going to burn their kingdom to the ground."