chapter 6

I stared at the screen until the display dimmed in my hand.

*Ask her about Victoria Whitmore.*

For several seconds, I didn't move. The parking lot was almost empty, the cool evening air settling over the dash while the mansion sat behind me, imposing, pristine, and completely unwelcoming.

My fingers typed out a quick reply: *Who are you?*

Nothing.

I sent a second: *What do you know about my husband?*

The three typing dots flickered on, hesitated, and vanished. No answer came.

I dropped the phone onto the passenger seat and started the engine. Part of me wanted to write it off as another one of Eleanor’s head games, but Eleanor didn't operate from behind an anonymous number. She didn't need to hide; she was used to issuing demands in plain view.

It was the specific mention of Victoria that made my stomach drop.

I drove home slowly, replaying Eleanor’s parting words in her study: *Let’s see how long that lasts.*

Telling Adrian right away felt like a mistake. If I ran to him every time a mysterious text popped up, we’d just fall back into the same exhausting loop; him promising to handle it, then faltering the second his mother stepped into the room. I needed to figure out what was actually happening first.

Back in my apartment, the quiet felt almost heavy. I changed out of my work clothes, poured a glass of water, and finally checked my notifications.

Two messages from Adrian sat on the screen.

*Did you get home safely?*

*I'm sorry about tonight. Mom shouldn't have called you there.*

I typed back: *Why didn't you tell me she wanted to see me?*

*I didn't know,* came his immediate reply.

I believed him. That was the most frustrating part, I still trusted his intentions, even when his execution was disastrous.

My thumb hovered over the keyboard. I almost asked about the anonymous warning right then, but I hesitated and sent a softer dodge instead: *She mentioned Victoria.*

A longer delay this time before his text appeared: *What about her?*

I closed my eyes, suddenly too exhausted to parse his reaction over text. *Nothing. I'm tired. Goodnight.*

I set the phone face-down on the counter. It buzzed a second later, but I left it alone until it went silent.

The next morning, Adrian showed up at my door at 7:20 carrying a brown paper bag from the bakery near my office.

“Chocolate croissants,” he said, holding it up as I opened the door.

“You remembered.” I stepped aside to let him in.

He walked into the narrow kitchen, his eyes drifting to his jacket still draped over the arm of my couch. “You haven't packed my stuff up yet.”

“I haven't had time,” I said, taking the bag from him.

We ate at the small laminate table in relative quiet. It felt strangely like our old life, before calendars and family expectations dictated every hour of the day.

“I talked to my dad last night,” Adrian said, setting his coffee down.

I raised an eyebrow. “About what?”

“Us. He thinks we need space from Mom. He said she’s used to running everything because nobody ever pushes back.”

“That sounds pretty accurate.”

“He also said I need to start making my own calls.” Adrian looked directly at me. “So I called the realtor this morning. The lease on our old apartment is still active. We can move our things back here this weekend.”

I paused, fork halfway to my mouth. “Without asking your mother?”

“I didn't tell her,” he said, a quiet edge of determination in his voice that I hadn't heard in weeks. “I'm not asking for her approval on where we live.”

I wanted to believe that this time would be different. “What about the merger?”

“It’s under control.”

He reached across the small table and took my hand. “I know I’ve made you feel second best, Emma. I don't want to do that anymore.”

Before I could answer, his phone buzzed against the wood.

*Mom.*

Adrian’s jaw set. He didn't ignore it, but he didn't jump up frantically either. He answered right at the table. “Good morning, Mom.”

I couldn't hear Eleanor’s voice, but I watched his expression carefully as he listened.

“No, I’m not coming to the mansion before work,” Adrian said, his tone flat and even. “I already have plans... I’m staying with Emma.”

Silence stretched over the line. I held my breath.

“No, Mom,” Adrian added firmly. “That’s not up for discussion.”

He ended the call and set the phone face down.

It wasn't a grand, cinematic showdown, but it was a boundary, one he had drawn himself. For the first time all week, a small knot in my chest loosened.

By mid-morning at the office, I was struggling to focus on my spreadsheets. Sarah dropped two thick project folders onto my desk with a loud thud.

“You’ve been staring at the same line of data for fifteen minutes,” she observed.

“I’m just processing.”

“Processing usually involves moving the mouse.”

My phone vibrated on the desk surface, another notification from the unknown number.

*Don't trust Victoria. She didn't suddenly appear in Adrian's life after your wedding. Eleanor has been preparing for this for a long time.*

My heart took a hard, cold drop.

I locked the screen immediately. Sarah gave me a sharp look, sensing the sudden shift in my posture, but I cleared my throat and pretended to look over the files. I deleted the thread, not because I thought it was fake, but because seeing the words written out made the situation feel dangerously real.

At 6:40 p.m., Adrian pulled his car up to the curb outside my building.

“My mother wants us at the house tonight,” he said as I got into the passenger seat. “She says it’s important.”

I turned to him. “And you agreed?”

“I agreed because I want to put an end to this in person,” he replied, looking me in the eye. “Not over a phone call.”

When we arrived, Eleanor was sitting in the main living room. Richard was seated nearby, looking quietly uncomfortable, and sitting on the adjacent sofa was Victoria.

Victoria stood up politely as we entered. “Emma. Adrian.”

“What’s going on, Mom?” Adrian asked, staying close to my side.

Eleanor set her teacup down with a light click. “I thought it was time we had an open conversation about the future. The merger is wrapping up, and the Hartwell Group is entering a very public phase. Adrian needs a partner who understands the social obligations that come with that.”

I stepped forward before Adrian could speak. “I understand my responsibilities perfectly well, Eleanor.”

“Do you?” Eleanor looked up at me, her expression completely smooth. “Because walking out of the house and refusing to participate in family affairs doesn't suggest readiness. Victoria has been involved in our charitable foundations and corporate events for years. She understands the demands of this life.”

The room went entirely cold.

Victoria shifted slightly, looking down at her hands. “Eleanor, I don't think this is the right way.”

“I am simply stating realities,” Eleanor interrupted coldly. “If Emma isn't prepared to adapt to what this position requires, we need to be honest about whether this marriage is sustainable.”

Adrian stepped directly between his mother and me. “That’s enough.”

Eleanor raised an eyebrow. “Adrian,”

“No,” Adrian said. The word was quiet, but it stopped her instantly. He didn't look at his father, and he didn't look at Victoria. He turned to Eleanor. “Emma is my wife. We are moving back to our apartment this weekend, and we will decide how we handle our social schedule. Not you.”

Eleanor stared at him, her eyes narrowing slightly as if evaluating a sudden calculation.

“We’re leaving,” Adrian said, taking my hand.

He led me toward the front door without waiting for a reply. As we crossed the foyer, I looked back over my shoulder.

Eleanor hadn't moved from her chair, but Victoria was standing beside her now. The polite, uncomfortable expression Victoria had worn moments earlier was completely gone. She was watching us leave with a cool, sharp composure that made my stomach turn.

As the heavy oak doors shut behind us, Adrian’s grip on my hand remained tight. He had finally drawn the line I had been asking for, but as I looked back at the grand house, I knew Eleanor wasn't finished and neither was Victoria.