A Stranger’s Kindness

The next evening, Lucian brought Amara to another social event. A networking gala, he called it. To her, it was just another room filled with strangers who whispered behind their champagne glasses and stared at her as though she didn’t belong.

Amara walked beside Lucian, her heels clicking against the polished floor. His hand rested lightly on her back, not out of affection but control. He guided her like one might guide a business accessory, his face the same cold mask he always wore.

“Smile,” he muttered under his breath as they entered the hall.

She forced her lips into a curve, though her chest ached.

The crowd welcomed Lucian instantly. Men shook his hand with respect, women leaned in too close, their eyes full of admiration and desire. Amara stood at his side quietly, invisible in his shadow.

Until someone noticed her.

“Mrs. Hale?”

The voice was warm, unexpected. Amara turned and found a man smiling at her. He looked to be in his early thirties, tall with kind brown eyes and a presence that felt safe.

He offered his hand. “Ethan Blake. I’ve known Lucian for years, though I admit he rarely introduces his… personal life.” His gaze softened as it landed on her. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet his wife.”

Amara blinked, surprised. Few people even acknowledged her at these events, let alone with kindness. She hesitated before taking his hand. “Amara,” she said softly.

Ethan’s smile widened. “A beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”

Her cheeks warmed. She wasn’t used to compliments—especially not ones so gentle.

Lucian’s eyes narrowed. He stepped closer, his arm wrapping possessively around Amara’s waist. “Blake,” he said coolly, his tone a warning. “Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

Ethan chuckled, unbothered. “Business never sleeps. But tell me, Amara—how are you finding the city? Adjusting well to married life?”

The question was simple, polite. Yet it caught Amara off guard. No one had asked her how she was. No one cared about her answer.

Except him.

Her lips parted, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. “It’s… different. Overwhelming, sometimes. But I’m learning.”

Ethan’s eyes softened. “I’m sure you’re stronger than you think.”

Lucian’s grip on her waist tightened, almost painfully. Amara winced.

Ethan’s gaze flickered between them, understanding flashing in his eyes. He didn’t press further, only offered her another warm smile before excusing himself to speak with other guests.

The moment he was gone, Lucian leaned down, his lips brushing her ear, his tone laced with steel. “Stay away from him.”

Amara’s heart thudded. “He was just being polite,” she whispered.

Lucian’s jaw clenched. “Men like him don’t do polite. Remember who you belong to.”

The words stung, but Amara found her courage, however small. She turned her head slightly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Belong? You said this marriage means nothing. So why do you care?”

Lucian’s eyes blazed, his breath sharp.

For a moment, it felt like the world around them disappeared—the chatter, the music, the lights. It was just him and her, locked in a battle neither of them wanted to admit they were fighting.

Finally, Lucian straightened, his mask snapping back into place. “Because you carry my name,” he said coldly. “And I won’t have you tarnish it.”

The rest of the evening passed in silence.

But later that night, when Amara lay awake in her small room, she couldn’t stop thinking about Ethan’s words. You’re stronger than you think.

For the first time since the contract began, she wondered if maybe—just maybe—he was right.