Chapter 3

I woke up in a bed that wasn’t mine, in a room that wasn’t mine, married to a billionaire I’d known for less than a day. I stared at the ceiling.

That was my life now. The billionaire. The marriage. The fifty million dollars. And somehow… it was only Thursday.

Wednesday had been a lot.

I showered in a bathroom stocked with products I didn’t recognize, lined up perfectly on the shelf — Ms. Hale’s work, no doubt. She seemed like the kind of person who anticipated needs before you even knew you had them.

When I came out, Caelum was already in the kitchen. Not at the dining table — standing at the counter with a mug, sleeves pushed up, reading something on his phone. He looked up as I walked in, and for half a second before he pulled his composure back on, I saw him — hair not quite settled, eyes without the full armor.

Then he straightened. Back to the calm, controlled billionaire. Alright then — I guess as Mrs. Vance I should get used to that. 😁🤧

“Coffee’s there,” he said.

“I can see that,” I replied, pouring myself a cup.

We stood on opposite sides of the counter in silence — not exactly uncomfortable, just… still figuring out how to share a space.

“Diana knows,” he said.

I looked up over my mug. “Already?”

“Lawyer’s letter at six this morning. Formal challenge — says there’s no proof of a real relationship.” He set his phone down. “She moves fast.”

“What does that mean for us?”

“The board’s appointing a reviewer. Someone interviews us separately, checks for inconsistencies, decides if this marriage is genuine.”

I thought about everything I actually knew: he drinks black coffee, pushes his sleeves up, wears his father’s watch, almost laughs but doesn’t. That was basically it.

“We don’t know each other,” I said.

“We have time to fix it.”

“Ten days isn’t much.”

“No,” he agreed. He picked up his phone, then set it down again — that little hesitation I was starting to notice when he had something important to say. “I thought we could go over the basics this morning. I’ll clear my schedule.”

“Clear your whole morning?”

“Just my calendar. I’ll move what needs moving.”

I blinked. Caelum Vance shifting his day for… us? “Okay. But first — actual food. Not just coffee.”

He paused. “I can have something sent up —”

“Or you could just show me where the eggs are.”

“You cook?”

“I didn’t grow up with a Ms. Hale,” I said. “Yes, I cook.”

He looked at me, then opened the cabinet. “Second shelf.”

 

I made eggs. He watched me do it with the focus of someone seeing something genuinely fascinating. Which was funny — it was just eggs.

“You’re staring,” I said.

“I’m not staring.”

“You absolutely are. Has no one ever cooked in front of you before?”

“People have. I just… don’t usually eat in the kitchen.” He shifted slightly. “Ms. Hale handles breakfast.”

“I’m getting the feeling Ms. Hale handles everything.” I slid a plate toward him. “Sit. We learn while we eat.”

He sat. I sat across. It felt so normal — so ordinary — that it was almost surreal, considering we’d signed our lives away yesterday.

“Favorite food,” I said. “Go.”

He hesitated. “I don’t know.”

I put my fork down. “You don’t know your own favorite food?”

“I eat what’s prepared. I don’t think about preferences.”

That was either the saddest or the most billionaire thing I’d ever heard. Probably both.

“Fine — we’ll figure yours out. Mine’s Mom’s chicken pie — she makes it whenever things go wrong. It’s basically our family emergency ritual.” I picked up my fork. “Your turn. Ask me something.”

He thought seriously, like he was drafting a contract. “What do you do when you’re scared?”

I paused. Didn’t expect that one.

“I go very still. Everyone thinks I’m calm. I’m not — the stillness is the fear. It’s how I hold it together instead of falling apart.” I looked at him. “You?”

“Work. Fill every hour until there’s no space left to feel anything.”

I thought of the laptop that never closed, the schedule he’d just cleared — and how unusual that was.

“That’s not sustainable,” I said.

“I know,” he said quietly. “Probably not.”

We sat there, and I realized — we’re more alike than either of us planned. Then I told myself: don’t think that. That’s dangerous.

“Tell me about Diana,” I said. “Not the law — her. What’s she actually like?”

He was quiet. “Patient. That’s what people underestimate. She planned for years — positioned herself, positioned Rowan, made herself indispensable. By the time I saw what she was doing… she was already everywhere.”

“Rowan — her son?”

“Entitled. But not stupid — important difference. He knows he’s here because of her, not himself. And I think it eats at him.”

“Could he help us?”

Caelum looked at me, really looked — the way he had in the lobby. “That’s an interesting way to see him.”

“He’s not automatically the enemy just because she is.”

“No,” he said slowly. “He’s not. I’ll think about it.”

We finished eating. The morning was quiet. Nine days left. A reviewer coming. A woman who knew my name before I even knew this building existed.

“One more thing,” I said. “The search you ran — how thorough was it?”

He met my gaze directly. “Thorough enough that I should’ve found any link to Diana or the company. And I found nothing.”

“Nothing… or nothing that was hidden?”

The pause stretched just a little too long.

“I don’t know yet,” he said.

I nodded. “Honest answer. I appreciate it.”

“Were you hoping for a cleaner one?”

“I was,” I said. “This is better.”

 

Ms. Hale knocked at nine — folder in hand, full of Diana’s challenge, the board’s notice, and a schedule packed tighter than I’d ever seen. She handed it over, then turned to me with a nod that was professional but warm.

“Mrs. Vance. I’ve let the kitchen staff know arrangements have changed.”

I looked at Caelum. “You told them?”

“Relevant to their scheduling,” he said, reading fast.

“Right. Purely administrative.”

The corner of his mouth twitched — further than usual, before he caught it.

I smiled to myself. There it was again — that almost-laugh. And I was starting to wonder if one day he’d actually let it out.