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10. Behind Closed Doors
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2025-12-12 18:41:09Security swept the hall as chaos threatened to overflow. Reporters shouted. Cameras flashed. Comments poured in faster than Adrian’s team could control.
Adrian placed a firm hand on Elara’s back more protective than anything he had done all night and guided her out of the press hall. Damon followed, clutching the tablet with the forged document like it was evidence from a crime scene. They walked swiftly through the side corridor of the Hale building, the noise of the press conference fading behind thick walls and steel doors. Adrian didn’t speak. He didn’t look at her. He didn’t slow his pace. And that silence was worse than anything he’d said before. Finally, he pushed open the door to a private conference room. No windows. Soundproof. Cold white lighting overhead. A single long table sat in the center. “Sit,” he said. Elara sat. Adrian remained standing arms crossed, posture rigid, jaw clenched. Damon stayed near the door, tense. Elara’s heartbeat filled her ears. Her hands were cold. Her breathing sharp. Adrian stared at her for a long, unbearable moment. “Tell me everything,” he said finally. “Every detail. Every hour of your day yesterday. You need to be precise.” Elara swallowed. “I worked at the shop all morning. I delivered two bouquets. I went to the reception hall in the afternoon to help finish the arrangements” “Names,” Adrian cut in. “Who saw you? Who can confirm?” Elara blinked, startled by the intensity of his voice. “Um… Mrs. Dalca at the shop. My assistant, Bree. The venue manager. The catering team. Other florists” “Anyone take a picture of you?” Adrian asked sharply. “No,” she said. “Not that I know of.” Adrian turned to Damon. “Verify every witness she listed. Pull time logs, deliveries, cameras, shop sales everything.” Damon nodded and rushed out. Adrian turned back to Elara. His eyes were unreadable. Cold. Calculating. And something else something she couldn’t interpret. “You understand what this means,” he said. Not a question. A statement. Elara shook her head slightly. “I didn’t do anything. I don’t even know what the document is. I’ve never seen that file in my life.” Adrian stepped closer. “Elara,” he said quietly, “in my world, this isn’t an accident. People don’t ‘make mistakes’ like this. Someone is intentionally connecting your name to something inside my company.” Her stomach twisted. “But why target me?” “Because you were the easiest point of entry,” Adrian replied. “You’re new. You’re vulnerable. And you don’t have a public defense.” Her voice cracked. “Are they trying to hurt you? Or me?” Adrian didn’t answer. That silence told her everything. The File The door opened again. Damon returned, carrying a printed version of the forged document. He placed it on the table. Elara leaned forward slowly, hands trembling. It was a contractor authorization form. Hale Corp’s internal paperwork. Her name was typed neatly at the bottom. The signature fake sat beside it. Adrian’s gaze locked onto the document. “This file,” Damon said, “was used yesterday to push a last-minute authorization for a logistics transfer. We caught it in the system only because the signature conflicted with the usual approval paths.” “So it’s…” Elara whispered, “illegal?” “No,” Adrian said. “It’s worse.” Damon nodded grimly. “It was designed to look legal. That makes it harder to trace. Whoever did this knows our system. They knew how to slip it in without raising suspicion.” Elara’s pulse spiked. “But it wasn’t me.” Adrian studied her face carefully. Not suspicious Not accusing Just Reading her. “Elara,” he said slowly, “this could be used to implicate you in internal fraud. They’re setting you up. And they’re doing it deliberately.” She felt cold all over. Damon stepped closer. “There’s more. The time stamp on this signature” He hesitated. “What about it?” Adrian asked. “It was entered at exactly the moment the wedding began.” Elara’s breath caught. Adrian’s eyes sharpened like a blade. “They waited until she walked down the aisle,” Damon continued softly. “They wanted her distracted. They wanted her unable to defend herself.” Elara pressed a hand to her chest. “So… someone watched me. Someone knew exactly where I was. And what I was doing.” Adrian didn’t move. Didn’t speak. But the air around him grew colder, sharper, heavier. He was furious. Not loud, not explosive but the kind of fury that sat deep and silent and dangerous. “Elara,” he said quietly, “you’ve been targeted from the moment you stepped into that wedding.” Her throat tightened painfully. “Why me?” Before Adrian could answer Damon’s tablet buzzed urgently. He looked at the screen… and paled. “Sir,” he whispered. “There’s a name connected to the file.” Elara’s heart dropped. “A name?” Adrian asked. “Yes,” Damon said. “Not in the signature. In the metadata. Someone who accessed the document before it was uploaded.” Adrian stepped closer. “Who?” Damon hesitated, then said it. “Lydia Bennett.” Elara’s breath stopped. Adrian’s expression didn’t. But his eyes— They turned to ice. Lydia Bennett. His original bride. The woman who walked out. The woman who left him standing at the altar. The woman who disappeared right before the wedding. Elara stared at Damon, then at Adrian. “She… she did this?” Elara whispered. “She tried to ruin the wedding? Ruin me?” Damon nodded. “Her login was used to access the system before it was wiped. It’s her account. It’s her clearance. It’s her digital trail.” Adrian didn’t speak. He just stood still, eyes like frozen steel, jaw clenched, shoulders rigid. Elara felt the truth settle in like a weight she couldn’t lift. “The person targeting me,” she whispered, “was supposed to be your bride.” Adrian’s silence confirmed it. And then for the first time since she met him His composure cracked. “She wants to destroy everything,” Adrian said quietly. “And she chose to start with you.”
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Married To Him By Midnight 55. The reckoning
I had never felt the weight of silence like this before.It wasn’t the kind of quiet that meant peace. It was the kind that screamed consequence. The kind that comes after the storm has passed but leaves debris scattered in places you can’t yet see.I arrived home later than usual, the evening streets buzzing faintly with lights and cars, a city unaware of the battles that had taken place in a boardroom, in a social post, in whispered messages. Yet I could feel it pressing on me, like an invisible hand tracing along my spine.Adrian was in the study, pacing slowly, phone in hand, his expression unreadable. The moment he saw me, he straightened, as if the mere act of my presence anchored him.“Sit down,” he said. His tone was low, almost dangerous. “We need to talk.”I did. Carefully. Not knowing what this was about, but knowing it would be significant.“Lydia’s gone further,” he said immediately. “She’s escalating beyond what I expected. The post yesterday—her connections, her network
Married To Him By Midnight 54. Standing Still
The quiet after confrontation has a particular weight to it.It isn’t relief. It isn’t victory. It’s the uneasy stillness that follows when two opposing forces retreat—not because the war is over, but because both are recalibrating.I felt it the morning after the event.No messages. No headlines. No whispered confirmations that Lydia had struck back or vanished again.Just silence.I hated it.Silence meant planning.I moved through my day with deliberate focus, grounding myself in the familiar rhythms of work. The shop smelled of fresh stems and damp earth, my hands busy arranging blooms that followed rules I understood—balance, proportion, intention.Unlike people.Around noon, my phone buzzed.Adrian.Can we talk later? In person.I stared at the screen longer than necessary before replying.Yes.I didn’t add anything else.By the time evening came, the tension had settled into my shoulders like something physical. Adrian was already home when I arrived, standing near the window w
Married To Him By Midnight 53. What I Refused To Carry
I didn’t expect peace to feel so fragile.After drawing that line with Adrian, I thought I’d feel lighter—like someone who had finally set down a burden that wasn’t hers to begin with. Instead, the calm that followed felt thin, stretched tight over something restless and waiting.I went back to my routine deliberately.Work. Calls. Familiar streets. Familiar faces.I needed the reminder that I had a life that existed outside contracts, legacies, and unfinished histories. A life that didn’t revolve around whose name trended in which circle or who sent what extravagant message wrapped in silence.Still, even as I arranged flowers in the shop that afternoon, my thoughts wandered back to the same question I hadn’t voiced aloud.How long can a boundary hold when someone keeps testing it?The answer arrived sooner than I wanted.It started subtly.A glance held a second too long at a café near my shop. A pause in conversation when I walked past a familiar social group. Whispers that stopped
Married To Him By Midnight 52. Lines I didn’t mean to draw
I didn’t expect the exhaustion to hit me the way it did.It wasn’t the kind that came from lack of sleep or too much work. It was deeper—settling into my bones, heavy with unspoken thoughts and decisions I kept postponing because naming them felt dangerous.By morning, my patience was gone.I moved through the house quietly, deliberately avoiding the spaces that had begun to feel shared in ways I wasn’t ready to define. The silence followed me anyway, stretching thin, like it was waiting for something to break.Adrian found me in the sitting room, already dressed, already composed. He looked like someone who had chosen control over comfort.That annoyed me more than it should have.“You’re up early,” he said.“So are you.”He paused, reading my tone. “Something’s wrong.”I let out a slow breath. “No. Something’s been wrong. I’m just tired of pretending I can carry it quietly.”He nodded once. “Then say it.”I turned to face him fully. “Why did you bring me into this?”His brow furrowe
Married To Him By Midnight 51. The Cost Of Staying
Elara’s POV I didn’t sleep well, not because of fear, or regret, or even anger but because staying had begun to feel heavier than leaving. That realization followed me into the morning like a shadow I couldn’t shake. I dressed without thinking too much about it, choosing comfort over intention, simplicity over statement. When I stepped into the kitchen, Adrian was already there, quiet, focused, the kind of stillness that suggested he’d been awake longer than he admitted. We didn’t greet each other immediately. That was new. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was cautious like both of us understood that whatever came next would shift things again. “I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he began. I poured myself water, needing the pause. “Which part?” “All of it.” I leaned against the counter. “Thinking isn’t the same as acting.” “I know.” That was encouraging. Also dangerous. “I spoke to my legal team,” he continued. “Not about Lydia. About boundaries.” I looked up. “What
Married To Him By Midnight 50. Not My Mess
I didn’t plan the confrontation.It happened the way exhaustion always does quietly at first, then all at once.The day had been long. Too long. Meetings that required smiles I didn’t feel, decisions that reminded me I still had a life waiting beyond this house, and the constant awareness that nothing around me was truly settled.By the time I walked in that evening, my patience was already thin.Adrian was on a call in the study. I heard Lydia’s name before I heard anything else.That was all it took.I didn’t interrupt. I didn’t storm in. I waited until the call ended, until he emerged with that controlled expression he wore when he thought he had everything contained.“You spoke to her,” I said.It wasn’t a question.He paused. “Briefly.”Something inside me snapped not loudly, but decisively.“That’s it,” I said. “I’m done pretending this is manageable.”His jaw tightened. “Elara”“No,” I cut in, my voice sharper than I intended. “You don’t get to soften this.”We stood facing eac
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