THREE

TWO WEEKS LATER

JOLENE’s POV

It’s been two weeks since the will reading. 

The table sat in a graveyard hush and the only clink of silverware was permitted to sound.

And as always, I didn't exist. My fingers still itches me from the hot water that accidentally poured on me.

Not until Rebecca threw a spoon over the chowder soup just as I was about to take a sit.

“Jolene.” Her voice sounded like a ticking bomb. I'd anchored myself for the hit, daring myself not to look into her eyes.

“This soup is lukewarm. Do I look like someone who drinks lukewarm soup?”

My fingers tightened. Three years caring for Logan and I’d never burned a meal. Now, one week as a wife and I couldn’t pour water right.

I kept my head down, hands shaking around the ladle. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Henderson. I’ll heat it right away.”

“You’ve been heating it wrong for three years,” Hailey snorted from across the table twirling a noodle on her fork. “Maybe it’s not the soup. Maybe it’s you.”

Shame scalded me. The servants here weren't allowed to mourn. We weren’t allowed to cry. We weren’t allowed to be human. 

I set the tureen down. "I'm sorry, I'd check it" I hastily apologize to avoid problems.

But just as I turned to take the bowl, a warm callous arm shot out to me.

"Stop"

I quivered as that voice only had me losing my breath. It was Jake.

He’d been a statue all dinner. Cutting steak into smaller and smaller pieces like he'd imagined it to be my neck. 

Green eyes fixed on his plate like it had personally offended him.

But now, he was on his feet, holding me back.

"Don't!" He goes on again.

For a heartbeat his thumb brushed over my pulse, like he was checking I was still alive.

Then he released me and stepped in front of me like a shield.

The Henderson men were tall. But Jake felt more different, not with size but with consequence.

“You will not speak to her that way in my house,” he snapped.

Hailey choked on air. “Your—”

“My house,” Jake repeated. He didn’t raise his voice to have everyone cower. “Clause seven. You recall it, Mother?”

Color drained from Rebecca’s face. 

Hailey's fork dropped as she pulled her brows together, baffled.

And me, my eyes were on the wrist he had held like I was someone important and hope hit me chest.

But Rebecca let out a brittle chuckle like she found him strange. “Darling, I’m simply asking the maid to do her job—”

“She’s not the maid anymore.” Jake’s green eyes were cold. “She’s my wife. Clause 7 of Dad’s will remember”

Hailey who had managed to hold a glass of water, choked on it.

Rebecca went pale as he mouth opened and closed.

“You humiliate her again, Mom, and you lose everything. Spousal benefits, the Manhattan apartment, the allowance. All of it gets redistributed.”

I gulped hard, panting and sweating because everything felt surreal.

“You can't—”

“i can.” Jake turned, his eyes found mine and he held his breath.

Just for a second, I had memories of me bandaging his knuckles after he’d punched a boy for calling me “a maid.” Him sneaking me extra dessert because I’d worked a double.

He paused.

“And if Jolene leaves before the year is up? Same thing. The shares go to charity. And Uncle Victor becomes majority shareholder.”

The only sound was the AC humming. Even the staff by the butler’s door had gone motionless.

Victor Henderson was his father's younger brother. Second-largest shareholder. The one who’d been in Europe for 5 years.

I’d never met him.

When I stared at Jake, I felt bad meant every bit of it.

Hailey looked like she'd start a war and I was certain she intended to say something but held her tongue.

Her hands let out the frustration on the noddles.

Rebecca’s lips pressed into a thin line. “This is ridiculous.”

“Then stop being ridiculous.” Jake walked out from the table. “Jolene. Come with me.”

My legs were running towards him and for the first time in weeks of this marriage, I smiled for real.

***

My heart was pounding as we walked to his study. A lot ran down my head.

He defended me. In front of everyone. 

I was literally leaping inside my heart.

Maybe he didn’t hate me as much as—

The door shut, drawing me back to reality and it dawn on me that we were already in his study room.

His study smelled like leather and him. Lime aftershave and tingles runs through me.

I wrapped my arms around myself. “Thank you.” The words felt too small. “For—”

"Don't get it twisted" he cut me off, not harsh but exhausted.

And lifting my head to look at him, his face killed it.

I couldn't recognize him again, he was back to that brooding facade with no remorse or emotions in his eyes. 

“I’m not protecting you,” he pressed and even if it breaks me, I only kept a straight face “I’m protecting the will. You leave, or Mom pushes you out, and I lose Apex.”

“Oh.” I whispered like I understood when I was dying inside from the revelation.

He ran a hand through his hair and sigh like he was thinking of what next to do or say.

His back was against me now, and he took a glimpse at me from the corner of his ears;

"Jo"

Should I be excited he called me that? Because it had been a while he made reference of that nickname.

“We used to talk,” he pouted “Remember? You’d come to the library to shelve books. I’d pretend I was studying. We’d talk until security kicked us out.”

He leaned to the desk, just to face me properly, his tone was soft now.

I couldn't hide the little smile on my lips now but I inhaled.

“You hated studying.”

It felt like his eyes were smiling as the memory must have flashed through his eyes.

I didn't avoid his eyes even though my heart was restless.

“You were the only person who didn’t want anything from me,” he continued, crossing his arms now. “Not money. Not the name. Just... me.”

My chest constricted. This was worse than the wedding. This was almost almost slow guilty conscience killing .

“I’m doing this because Dad asked. Not because I want to.

“I know.”

“Do you?” He pulled out and stepped closer. 

Close enough that I could count the flecks of gold in his green eyes, close enough that I felt his breath on my face. “Because starting tomorrow, this house is going to be a warzone. And I need you to understand the rules.”

I nodded even though I couldn't utter a sound.

“Rule one: We appear married. At Dinners, Events, Photos. You wear the ring.”

He began, his eyes settled on my palm like he just noticed.

"What happened?" He asked as his face squeezed.

"It was a mistake" I said throwing my hands to the back, more concerned if I could keep to the rules. "I'm fine"

He scoffed at me, a bit of worry was written on his face before he replaced it to a stiffen one.

My eyes beckoning on him to continue but he walked pass me bumping my shoulder, I heard his hiss behind.

I didn't turn as in seconds, he appeared in front of me with a first aid kit.

He always had one in the study room but I never expected he'd pull one out just for me.

Jake took brought out an antiseptics and bandage, didn't ask permission before taking my hand.

His touch always sent an electrifying jolt and if this was a dream, I didn't want to wake up.

"How do you expect others to react when you come to the public with burnt hands?" He asked, sealing my burns with a balm.

Even though it hurts, I didn't want to make a sound but just day dream, staring at.

He raised his head at me, gnashed his teeth and then said;

“Rule two: No interviews. No posts. No telling anyone why we’re doing this.” 

He was back and finally placed the bandage but didn't let go of me hand.

“Okay.”

“I don’t have any rules for now but…” He stopped. 

His gaze dropped to my mouth, then jerked away like he’d been burned.

“What?” I whispered as he slowly dropped my hand.

He exhaled, a quite bitter sound.

“Maya is moving in.”

The lungs were empty as everything stopped working. My lashes blinked like they weren't ready to accept that.

Maya Carter. 

Maya Carter. NYU Med, and golden girl then. 

The girl who submitted my thesis as her own. The reason I got expelled. The reason I’m a nurse and not a doctor. 

“She’ll be living here,” Jake buttressed, watching me. “As my partner.”

PARTNER?

For what exactly? I was staggering where I stood, my hands clutched my dress and taking in his expression, I knew he meant it.