33. Questioning The Edge

The penthouse felt heavier than usual. Not from the city noise below or the walls themselves, but from the weight of my own thoughts. I wandered from room to room, hands brushing over surfaces I barely noticed before, wondering exactly what I was doing here why I kept standing in a world that wasn’t mine by birth or profession, and why I kept playing a role I wasn’t even being “paid” to perform.

Adrian’s absence made the space feel both empty and suffocating. He had left early again, heading to a series of meetings no one had invited me to, discussions that dictated the course of his empire. And I? I had spent hours trying to predict, manage, and anticipate reactions of the board, of Lydia, of everyone who thought they could manipulate me into disappearing.

It struck me suddenly: what was I even doing? I hadn’t been trained for this life. No one had prepared me to be a pretense bride, a strategic partner, or a buffer for power struggles. And yet, here I was, giving everything I had time, energy, focus …without a paycheck, without acknowledgment, without guarantee that my position wasn’t temporary.

I sank onto the edge of the bed, staring at the city lights, and asked myself the question that had been gnawing at me silently:

Am I doing this because I love him… or because I’ve convinced myself I belong here?

The answer wasn’t simple.

I loved Adrian, yes. But part of me loved the challenge, the strategic positioning, the way my presence mattered without anyone being able to erase it. And yet, it also scared me. Because love shouldn’t feel like a chessboard where every move could destroy your standing.

I thought about Lydia. About how she had escalated, pushed boundaries, and now watched me carefully, expecting me to falter. What if I did? Would Adrian protect me, or would my mistakes become leverage for someone else’s agenda?

I shook my head and rose. Sitting in doubt wouldn’t change anything. If I was going to stay in this game, I had to play on my own terms. Not because someone else wanted me to, and not because I owed anyone proof of loyalty.

I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. The face staring back was calm but the eyes held calculation. I realized that even when the world treated me as a pretense bride, even when Lydia’s every move threatened to destabilize me, the real twist wasn’t external it was internal: I could step back. I could choose whether to engage, whether to expend energy, whether to risk myself for this world at all.

And that choice that quiet, unspoken power felt intoxicating.

I heard the elevator chime and the door open before Adrian’s voice broke through my thoughts.

“You’re thinking too much,” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Am I?” I asked. “Or am I realizing that I’m doing all this, and nobody is paying me to be a pawn in their game?”

He stepped closer, silent for a long beat. Then, deliberately: “Maybe… but that’s why I need you by my side. Not because the board demands it. Not because Lydia’s trying to scare you. But because you’re the only one who sees the game the way it truly is.”

I looked at him, measuring his words. For once, there was no protection, no control just acknowledgment. And it hit me: my worth wasn’t defined by titles, paychecks, or anyone else’s approval. It was defined by my own choices.

And then the thought that would become the twist hit me like a thunderclap:

If I walked away tomorrow, if I stopped giving my energy to this world, would anyone notice besides him?

It was terrifying. And liberating.

Adrian reached for my hand. “Whatever you decide,” he said softly, “I’ll respect it.”

I squeezed it gently, letting the tension in my chest ease slightly. “Then we play the next round with my terms,” I said.

He smiled faintly, not amused, not in love simply aware. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As he left for the evening, I stood alone again, but differently. The room no longer felt suffocating. The board, Lydia, the whispers they could all continue. But I now had something they couldn’t touch: the ability to decide whether or not I belonged here, and what I was willing to risk to stay.

And that, I realized with a quiet thrill, changed everything.