chapter 2

​I didn't sleep that night. Hearing Adrian agree to "handle me" burned every time I closed my eyes.

​By 7:15 the next morning, we were back at the dining table.

​“Emma,” Eleanor said between bites of toast, “after breakfast, we’re going over your schedule. You’ll come with me to the charity foundation this afternoon. Tomorrow is a fitting, Thursday is a family luncheon, and Friday is dinner with Adrian’s partners.”

​I set my fork down. “What about my job?”

​“I already spoke to your office,” Eleanor said smoothly. “It’s taken care of.”

​My pulse spiked. “You called my employer?”

​“You don't need to work anymore,” she said. “Adrian provides for this house.”

​I looked straight at Adrian. “Did you know about this?”

​He hesitated, looking everywhere except at me. “Emma, I was going to talk to you today.”

​“You knew?” I stood up, pushing my chair back. “I have a career. I’m not quitting.”

​“Sit down,” Eleanor said, her voice dropping an octave.

​“No.” It was the first time I’d directly refused her, and the table went dead silent.

​Adrian stood up too, trying to play peacemaker. “Emma, let’s calm down. Mom, that’s enough.”

​Eleanor looked at him with sharp disappointment. “After everything I’ve done, this is how you speak to me?”

​Just like that, Adrian’s stance collapsed. The guilt got to him instantly. He turned back to me, his voice completely flat. “Emma, please just sit down.”

​I sat back down, not because Eleanor told me to, but because I was too tired to argue in front of the staff. But something inside me broke right then.

​Later that afternoon, Eleanor took me through the foundation offices. Everyone addressed me as "Mrs. Hartwell," but it was obvious who held the leash. Whenever someone asked if I’d be taking an active role, Eleanor answered for me before I could open my mouth.

​When we got back to the mansion around five, Adrian was waiting in the library.

​“How was it?” he asked gently.

​“Fine,” I said, setting my bag down. “Though your mother made sure everyone knows I’m just an ornament.”

​He rubbed his face. “She’s trying to integrate you into the family.”

​“Is that why we’re having dinner with the Whitmores tonight?” I asked. “She mentioned their daughter is coming.”

​Adrian went stiff. “Victoria is a family friend, Emma. We grew up together.”

​“And why is your mother so eager for us to meet?”

​He didn't answer.

​That night, the dining room was set for five. I wore a plain black dress, nothing fancy, just simple and neat.

​When the front door opened, Victoria Whitmore stepped in. She was stunning tall, dark hair, effortlessly put-together in a cream dress. The moment she saw Adrian, her face lit up.

​“Adrian!” She stepped right past me to give him a hug. “It’s been too long.”

​“Too long,” Adrian agreed, smiling wider than I’d seen him smile all week.

​Victoria finally turned to me, her eyes sweeping over my dress and settling briefly on my left hand. “So this is Emma. You never told me she was so pretty, Adrian.”

​Dinner was a blur of inside jokes, shared childhood memories, and talk of family estates I’d never heard of. I sat right next to Adrian, but I felt invisible.

​At one point, Victoria laughed and set her wine glass down. “I still can’t believe you actually got married, Adrian. I always thought you’d stick to the original plan.”

​The table went quiet.

​Adrian cleared his throat. “Victoria.”

​“I’m joking, of course,” she added smoothly, taking a sip of water.

​Eleanor didn't look like she was joking. She casually looked at me and said, “Plans change. Sometimes for the better, sometimes just out of necessity.”

​Under the table, Adrian reached out and nudged my knee, giving me a quick look that clearly meant don't start anything. I pulled my leg away.

​When the Whitmores left, I went upstairs and immediately started taking off my jewelry in front of the mirror.

​Adrian walked in a few minutes later. “Emma, look.”

​“Was she the one your mother wanted you to marry?” I asked, keeping my back to him.

​He stopped in the middle of the room. “It’s not that simple.”

​“It sounds pretty simple to me.” I turned around to face him. “Did you actually want me, Adrian, or was marrying me just your one pathetic attempt at rebelling against your mother?”

​He looked like I’d slapped him. “I married you because I loved you.”

​“Then start acting like it,” I said softly, “because right now, it feels like I’m sitting in someone else’s chair.”

​He had no answer for that.