Chapter 7: I thought you changed

Nightfall.

The Luthor mansion loomed in tense silence, a thick atmosphere pressing down like a weighty secret. The dining room chandelier flickered ominously above a solitary place setting. Andrew was at the head, fingers drumming against the polished oak, brows furrowed in frustration. His steak lay cold and untouched.

Suddenly, a maid appeared. “Sir,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “The young madam hasn’t come down.”

“Why?” His voice cut through the air, sharp and brittle.

“She’s refused dinner. She won’t touch anything from the kitchen.”

A scoff escaped him. “So she’s on a hunger strike?”

Without waiting for more, Andrew stood, chair scraping under him, his footsteps echoing like a countdown to confrontation.

He didn’t knock. The door was ajar, so he pushed it open.

Inside, Sarah sat on the bed, bathed in the soft glow of her lamp, still as a statue. Not crying. Not speaking. Just frozen, caught in her own turmoil.

“Planning to starve yourself?” Andrew leaned against the doorframe, annoyance brimming.

She locked eyes with him, steady. “Even if I wanted to die, starving would be the worst way.”

“I can’t die yet,” she continued, voice fierce. “Not until I prove my parents were innocent.”

Andrew stepped closer, dismissive. “Innocent,” he echoed, bitter. “Is that what you’re calling it now?”

“I don’t care what you think.” She stood, anger sparking. “My parents were good people! They didn’t deserve your hate.”

He closed the gap, voice low and lethal. “If you want to survive in this house—wearing my ring, playing this game—you better let it go. That case is dead.”

“Then what was so unforgivable that you married me just to punish me for it?” Her voice rose, slicing through the tension.

Silence wrapped around them. Just a flicker of something in his eyes before it vanished.

“This conversation is over,” he snapped.

“No, it’s not!” She stepped forward, heart racing. “You treat me like the enemy. So what do you think we did?!”

His jaw tightened. He remained silent.

“Come downstairs,” he ordered sharply. “Eat.”

“I’m not coming.”

“That wasn’t a request.” His voice turned frigid. “You don’t get to refuse me. Every camera in this city is ready to write: ‘Billionaire Luthor Starves His Wife.’ You still have to play Mrs. Luthor—fake marriage or not.”

He turned to leave.

“Maybe I thought…” Her voice trembled. “Maybe I thought something had changed. But I was wrong. You’re still cold. Cruel. Unreachable.”

His back tensed, but he didn’t turn around.

“You have ten minutes to be at the table,” he said from the doorway, tone softer but still firm. “After that, I won’t come looking.”

And with that, he was gone.

Sarah sank back onto the bed, heart racing. How do I tell him? If I’m really pregnant... he’ll think it’s a trap, a way to bind him closer.

Her hand trembled on her stomach as the world spun with what-ifs.

“You have ten minutes to be at the table,” he said from the doorway, his voice quieter now. “After that, I won’t come looking.”

And he was gone.

...........

Sarah rose from her seat, the heaviness of her thoughts pulling her down. She stepped quietly across the cold floor and into the dining room, where Andrew was already at the head of the table, eating methodically, the silverware clinking against the plates.

“I won’t be going to the office tomorrow,” she announced, cutting through the mounting silence.

Without looking up, Andrew responded, “Why?”

“Important business.”

His fork paused mid-cut. “I’ll need a more specific reason if you want my approval.”

“It’s personal,” she replied, her voice tense.

Finally, he met her gaze, his eyes steely. “Then you’re not going.”

“What did you just say?” Her eyebrows shot up in disbelief.

“If you can’t tell me where you’re going, you’re not leaving this house. That’s final.”

“Final?” she echoed, incredulous. “Am I a prisoner now?”

“You’re my wife,” he said, unyielding. “And people are watching. I won’t have them thinking I can’t keep track of Mrs. Luthor.”

Her grip tightened on her fork, the urge to drive it into the table nearly overwhelming. “I’m visiting a friend,” she bit out.

“Male or female?” he shot back.

“Seriously?” she blinked.

“Answer the question.”

“Female,” she snarled.

He leaned back, arms crossed. “Then why the secrecy?”

She slammed her utensils down. “I don’t owe you explanations for every part of my life, Andrew! Why must you control everything?”

He rose slowly, like a predator sizing her up. “You don’t get to just disappear under my roof without a reason. Not when the stakes are this high.”

“Oh, now you care?” she retorted bitterly. “Only because you think I might run?”

“I never said that,” he responded, his voice low but dangerous. “But if the shoe fits…”

Fury flooded her cheeks. “You’re unbelievable.”

Turning away, she attempted to exit the charade of dinner, but he called out, “About the message you received…”

She froze.

Slowly, she turned back, her eyes narrowed. “What about it?”

“I had it traced. The number’s unregistered. The signal bounced through four countries before reaching your phone.”

“You what?” Stunned, she grasped for words. “You traced it?”

“I had to be sure,” he stated, calm and collected.

“Sure of what? Were your threats not enough? Was your scare tactic not working?”

His brow furrowed. “You think I sent it?”

“I know you’re involved,” she shot back, fiery conviction in her voice. “You’re the only one warning me to stop digging. You practically threatened me—you’d shut me down.”

“I warned you for your own protection,” he countered, voice turning icy. “Do you really think I would stoop that low?”

“You’ve already shown you’ll do anything to protect your precious image,” she snapped. “So yes, I believe it.”

“You’re jumping to conclusions, Sarah.”

“And you’re underestimating me.”

A charged silence hung between them, pulsing with unspoken words.

“You can cage me, monitor my every move, but I won’t stop until I clear my parents’ names,” she declared, voice shaking not with fear, but fierce determination. “They were innocent.

She locked eyes with him, a fire igniting between them. “And I will prove it.”

His gaze was icy, devoid of emotion. “You’re walking a dangerous line.”

“Good,” she shot back, adrenaline coursing through her veins. “I’m done playing it safe.”

With a swift motion, she turned on her heel, determination written all over her face.

“I won’t back down, no matter your threats,” she declared, her voice unwavering.

Ignoring his piercing stare, she marched away, shoulders square, heart pounding like a war drum.

He didn’t follow.

But this wasn’t the end; it was only the beginning of the battle. The war had just started.