Chapter 54: Smile for the Camera

The sun filtered softly through the gauzy curtains of Katherine’s apartment, painting the walls with streaks of gold. The city below was already alive — faint traffic, distant sirens, and the occasional bark from a neighbor’s balcony dog. But up here, up in the apartment, it felt like they were suspended above it all.

Sebastian stood barefoot by the window, still shirtless, his trousers loosely hanging from his hips. The phone in his hand cast a faint glow across his stern features as he scrolled through the headlines.

“‘New York’s Golden Couple to Attend Charity Gala This Saturday’,” he read aloud with the dry tone of someone unimpressed by the poetry of the press. “Apparently, we’re ‘radiant and mysterious.’”

From the kitchen, Katherine let out a sleepy laugh.

“That’s just a fancy way of saying we didn’t stop to pose for the paparazzi.”

She was wearing one of his crisp white shirts, the sleeves rolled up, the hem barely covering her thighs. Her hair was a messy bun of curls, and she was barefoot, dancing lightly between the counter and the kettle. She moved like she belonged — not just in the space, but in his life.

“You want tea or coffee?” she called out.

“Coffee. Unless you’re trying to turn me British.”

“Too late. I already noticed you started saying ‘bloody’ whenever you’re pissed.”

He smirked, but didn’t look up from his phone.

A silence settled — warm, comfortable. For a minute.

Then her voice broke through again, quieter this time.

“Is this the same event where Lara DeWitt will be?”

That made him glance up.

“Yes,” he said. “I think so. She’s on the board of that foundation.”

Katherine poured boiling water over the tea bags, her movements still calm, but the energy in the room had shifted.

“Hmm,” she replied, passing him his coffee. “Should I be worried? She’s, what, your ex from... the art investment years?”

He took the mug but didn’t immediately answer.

“She’s no one important.”

Katherine raised an eyebrow and leaned against the counter, sipping her tea slowly.

“I didn’t say she was. But you just sounded... rehearsed.”

He met her gaze.

“I just don’t want you overthinking some woman I haven’t spoken to in two years.”

“Great,” she said, smiling tightly. “Then I’ll pretend she won’t be standing there in a backless gown with her claws ready.”

He chuckled, stepping closer.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“And you’re being evasive.”

Another pause. Not angry. Just... strained. She turned away and opened the fridge, avoiding his eyes.

He came up behind her, arms circling her waist.

“Hey. Don’t let the headlines or the guest list ruin our morning.”

She didn’t move away, but she didn’t melt into him either.

“I won’t,” she said. “Just don’t act surprised if I suddenly go full ‘loud woman’ mode when someone crosses a line.”

He smiled into her neck.

“I’d pay to see that.”

She looked over her shoulder at him, finally letting herself grin.

“Oh, you will. And you’ll regret every dollar.”

But as she turned back to her tea, the smile faded just a little.

---

The late morning light cast long beams across the hardwood floor of Katherine’s bedroom. The suitcase lay open at the foot of the bed, half-filled with elegant gowns, heels, and carefully folded blazers. A garment bag hung on the closet door, unzipped just enough to reveal a hint of crimson silk.

Katherine moved back and forth between the wardrobe and the suitcase, her movements brisk but silent. She didn’t hum, didn’t joke, didn’t speak — not like she usually did. Her hands were steady, but her eyes kept flitting toward the mirror, then away.

Sebastian sat at the edge of the bed, one leg crossed over the other, pulling his tie through the collar of a crisp white shirt. His jacket was already laid out beside him, along with his silver cufflinks and a watch that probably cost more than her entire wardrobe.

He watched her for a moment, then quietly asked,

“Are you packing for war?”

She didn’t look at him.

“I’m packing for New York,” she said. “Same thing.”

He gave a soft sigh, adjusting the tie and slipping the knot into place.

“You hate overthinking. You told me that.”

“I do,” she said, folding another blouse. “But I also hate feeling unprepared.”

He ran a hand through his hair, standing up. The distance between them felt too wide for such a small room.

“I told you,” he said calmly. “There’s nothing to prepare for. It’s a two-day trip. A gala. A few meetings. You’ll look incredible, I’ll be beside you, and —”

She finally turned around to face him, her arms crossed loosely. Her voice wasn’t sharp, but it landed exactly where it was meant to.

“Just make sure I don’t end up standing alone in a room full of your past.”

The silence between them thickened. He looked at her for a long moment before answering, his voice low:

“You won’t.”

But the way he said it wasn’t a promise. It was a hope.

And she heard that.

Their eyes locked. Hers searching, his unreadable.

Then, as if the moment were too heavy to carry further, she turned away again and zipped the suitcase.

“Alright,” she said. “Flight’s in four hours. I’ll call the car.”

Sebastian nodded.

“I’ll finish packing in a few minutes.”

She didn’t reply. Just walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her a little too softly to be angry — but a little too firmly to be fine.

---

The hum of the aircraft filled the space between them, steady and quiet like an old song on low volume. The warm golden light of the cabin painted soft shadows across Sebastian’s jaw, which remained clenched as he scrolled through a document on his tablet. Katherine sat beside him, curled slightly into her seat, a silk scarf draped loosely around her neck, her legs crossed.

She wasn't reading, not really. The article on her tablet hadn't changed in five minutes, but her finger hovered, ready to swipe — in case he looked over.

He didn’t.

For a while, they said nothing. Just silence and soft clinks of glasses being refilled by the flight attendant. Katherine accepted a cup of tea with a faint smile, Sebastian declined the offer entirely.

She broke the silence first, eyes still fixed on her screen.

“So,” she said, her tone casual enough to be dangerous. “Is she going to be there?”

Sebastian looked up, pretending for a moment not to know who she was.

Then he gave a soft exhale through his nose.

“Yes.”

Katherine finally turned to look at him.

“Are you going to say her name?”

He met her eyes, calm but guarded.

“Lara will be there. It’s not a surprise.”

“And it’s nothing,” she added, not asking. Testing.

“That’s right,” he said, with the kind of flat certainty only people with something to hide use.

She didn’t blink. Just turned her gaze back to the tablet and slowly set it down on her lap. Her voice dropped lower, but her words carried clearly.

“You don't have to explain anything. I don’t need the history.”

She paused, then turned back to him.

“I just need one thing from you tonight.”

Sebastian’s brow tensed slightly. “What is it?”

She looked at him — really looked at him — and said:

“Just don’t make me feel invisible. Not tonight.”

That landed.

He opened his mouth to reply, but there was a hesitation — not because he didn’t know what to say, but because he didn’t know if saying it would change anything.

“I won’t,” he said eventually. “You won’t be.”

But she just nodded and looked away, lips pressed tight.

They both returned to their screens after that —

but neither of them read a word.

---

The elevator doors opened with a quiet chime, revealing the sleek interior of Sebastian’s penthouse. Katherine stepped inside first, her heels clicking softly on the polished floor. She’d been here before — countless times. She knew the space, the scent of the leather couch, the skyline view from the full-length windows. But tonight it all felt different.

Colder.

Too clean. Too curated. Like a museum of a man she wasn’t sure she entirely knew.

She set her bag down on the marble kitchen counter, her fingers lingering for a second too long. Her reflection caught in the chrome of the espresso machine — tired eyes, slightly parted lips, a woman unsure of her place in the picture.

Sebastian entered behind her, pulling off his jacket and tossing it over the back of the chair like always. But even that casual gesture seemed rehearsed. Everything tonight felt like choreography — a performance they’d agreed to but hadn't rehearsed enough.

Without a word, he crossed to the hallway and returned with a small velvet box.

“Here,” he said, opening it. “For tonight.”

Inside: a pair of diamond earrings, minimalist but elegant. The kind you wore when you were expected to make a statement without speaking.

They shimmered like promises. Or chains.

Katherine took them, slowly.

“They’re beautiful,” she said. Her voice was polite, maybe even grateful. But it wasn’t warm. Not the way it used to be.

She turned them over in her palm, the weight of them pressing into her skin.

“Thanks,” she added, offering him a tight smile.

“Should match the image.”

Sebastian’s jaw twitched. “It’s not about the image.”

She raised a brow, not bothering to argue. The earrings clicked shut in her hand as she closed the box again.

Behind them, the skyline of Manhattan blinked through the windows — a thousand lights, too far to touch. Her eyes drifted downward, toward the vague outline of the 47th floor. Her apartment. Her space. Her silence.

For the first time, she imagined sleeping there alone.

And it didn’t feel like a threat.

It felt like a possibility.

“I’m going to shower,” she said softly, already heading toward the guest bathroom.

He didn’t stop her.

And she didn’t ask him to.

---

The flash of cameras was relentless — like a meteor shower made of diamond dust.

Katherine stepped onto the red carpet beside Sebastian, her gown catching the light with every move. Midnight blue, off-shoulder, sculpted to perfection. His arm rested lightly around her waist, the picture of control and confidence. Together, they looked like a headline.

Power. Elegance. Precision.

The press roared their names.

“Mr. Mason! Over here!”

“Katherine! Give us a smile!”

She did. Perfectly.

But as they moved inside the grand hall, under the chandeliers and into the sea of tuxedos and champagne, the warmth began to fade. Bit by bit.

Conversations pulled Sebastian in. Investors, CEOs, faces from glossy magazines and darker headlines. Katherine sipped her drink, nodding to a few familiar names, offering polite small talk. But when she turned, she saw it.

Him.

Surrounded.

Three women. Maybe four. One of them unmistakably Lara DeWitt — all legs and lashes and the sharp smile of a woman who never lost.

They laughed. Too loudly.

Touched his arm. Too casually.

One leaned in and whispered something that made Sebastian tilt his head back and laugh.

Katherine stood still, her clutch digging into her palm.

She didn’t approach.

She didn’t interrupt.

She waited.

That’s when one of the women — platinum hair, red lips, vintage Dior — glanced her way with an arched brow and a hint of malice.

“You really broke his pattern,” she said, as though making a toast.

Another chimed in, swirling her glass with exaggerated grace.

“Loud women never last long.”

Katherine met their gazes with unnerving calm. She took one slow step forward, shoulders squared, eyes unwavering.

“Then maybe I’m not loud,” she said.

Her voice was low. Firm.

“Maybe I’m just finally heard.”

The women blinked. Just a fraction of hesitation. But it was enough.

Cameras nearby snapped furiously — catching the tension, the power, the poised defiance.

Lara didn’t speak. But her smirk faltered.

Katherine turned away and headed toward the bar.

Alone.

She ordered something neat, something sharp. Her fingers toyed with the rim of the glass. Her eyes flicked back to Sebastian — still talking, still surrounded, not looking her way.

He hadn’t defended her.

Hadn’t followed.

And in that sea of silk and sparkle, of curated conversations and clinking crystal, Katherine had never felt more exposed.

Or more certain.

---

The elevator ride to the 53rd floor was steeped in silence.

No glances. No words. Just the soft hum of motion and the faint click of heels on marble as Katherine shifted her weight.

Sebastian stood beside her — stiff, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the illuminated floor numbers.

Fifty-three.

Ding.

The doors opened into dim lighting and quiet luxury. Floor-to-ceiling windows glowed with the shimmer of New York’s skyline. Cold. Detached. Grand.

Just like the silence between them.

Katherine walked in first. Without a word, she leaned down and slipped off her heels, letting them fall with two dull thuds onto the polished floor. Her clutch landed softly on the velvet bench near the door. She didn’t look at him.

Sebastian unbuttoned his shirt one by one, slowly, methodically — like peeling off a layer of expectation. He rolled his sleeves to the elbows, still silent.

Katherine broke it.

“So…” she said, her voice soft but laced with steel, “I smiled for the cameras. You smiled for them.”

Sebastian blinked, turned slightly. “They’re just people. Business partners. Social noise.”

She let out a short, bitter laugh. “And I was just decoration.”

His jaw tensed. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” She stepped forward now, standing near the kitchen island, her bare feet silent against the floor. “You let them talk to me like I didn’t belong. You stood there, laughing — like nothing mattered.”

“You handled it,” he said, too calmly.

“I shouldn’t have had to.”

Her voice cracked slightly. “I shouldn’t have been alone in a room full of people who already decided I wasn’t enough for you.”

Sebastian ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “You’re overthinking this.”

“Am I?” she snapped. “Because to me it looked a hell of a lot like you missed who you came with tonight.”

He opened his mouth, closed it again.

She turned, walked toward the coat rack.

Grabbed her coat. Her bag.

“I’m going down to 47.”

“No,” he said immediately. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Her hand froze on the door handle.

She turned slowly.

“Then look at me like you actually see me,” she said quietly.

“Or move aside.”

A beat of silence.

He didn’t move. But his eyes — for the first time that night — truly locked with hers. Anger clashed with hurt. Pride with vulnerability. For once, there was no strategy, no posture. Just two people standing in the wreckage of unspoken expectations.

“I see you,” he said. “You have no idea how much.”

She didn’t blink.

“Then act like it,” she whispered.

“Because tonight, I felt invisible.”

---

She stood at the door, fingers curled around the keys to her apartment downstairs.

Her coat hung from her shoulders, purse already slung across her body. One more step, and she’d be gone — down to the 47th floor, to silence, to space, to air that didn’t feel so heavy.

Sebastian didn’t move toward her.

He didn’t reach for her wrist, didn’t try to hold her back.

He just stood a few steps behind, his voice quieter than she’d ever heard it.

“If you go now… I don’t know how to ask you to come back.”

The words hung in the air like broken glass — delicate, dangerous.

Katherine didn’t turn around. Her jaw tightened. Her eyes burned.

She looked down at her hand — at the key that suddenly weighed more than it should. She'd been ready to leave. She was leaving. And yet…

Slowly, she exhaled.

Then, without a word, she reached up — and placed the key on the small marble shelf beside the door.

The sound it made was barely audible. But for him, it was everything.

Her back still to him, she whispered, “Don’t make me regret that.”

And she walked past the door.

Back into the room.

Back to the fire neither of them knew how to hold — or walk away from.

---

They sat in silence.

The purring hum of the city buzzed beneath the windows, but neither of them looked out. The skyline of New York, vast and dazzling, felt meaningless now — just lights without warmth.

Katherine curled one leg under herself on the far end of the couch, her coat still wrapped loosely around her. Her purse sat forgotten by her feet. Sebastian sat on the other end, shirt half-unbuttoned, elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely.

No one said anything.

Not because there was nothing to say.

But because words had already failed them tonight.

She didn’t lean into him.

He didn’t reach for her.

There was no “I’m sorry.” No kiss to erase the sting.

Just space.

And a silence that hurt more than shouting ever could.

At one point, she turned her head just slightly.

Just enough for him to see the way her eyes shimmered. Not dramatic tears, not sobs — just a quiet gloss of pain, held in place by willpower and pride.

And in that one fleeting second, Sebastian knew.

This wasn’t just another argument.

This was the fracture that, if left alone, could become a break.

He looked away first.

She stayed.

Not because he asked her to. Not because she forgave him.

But because something in her wasn’t quite ready to leave yet.

She stayed. But only to remember how it feels — to leave on her own terms if she ever needs to.

---