Chapter 8: A storm unleashed

Morning came like a slap.

I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t. My body was exhausted, but my mind ran wild images of Brenton's face in the crowd, Alexander's coldness on the balcony, the bitter taste of disappointment still sharp on my tongue.

I dragged myself out of bed and into the en-suite bathroom. The mirror didn’t lie dark circles, pale skin, eyes too wide with unrest.

This wasn’t the woman I used to be. I  didn’t recognize the reflection anymore.

I took a long, cold shower. Dressed in silence. And by the time I stepped into the hallway, Alexander was already seated at the dining table, reading the financial section of the paper like nothing had happened.

Like I  hadn’t nearly broken down the night before.

“Coffee’s on the left,” he said without looking up.

That was it. No ‘Good morning.’ No ‘Are you okay?’ Just instructions. Like I was a staff member.

I ignored the coffee and stood by the windows, arms crossed.

“We need to talk,” I said.

“You always say that when you want to demand something,” he replied coolly, flipping a page.

“I want to talk about Brenton.”

That got his attention.

He set the paper down. Slowly. Like I had just triggered a silent alarm.

“What about him?”

“He saw me. I saw him. I froze. I panicked. And now I need to know what happens if he comes back?”

“I already told you. He’s being followed.”

“That’s not enough,” I snapped. “I want him gone.”

Alexander leaned back in his chair. “You think you’re in a position to make such demands now?”

“I think,” I said, stepping forward, “that this contract won’t mean a thing if I’m found in a gutter because you were too busy reading the stock exchange.”

A beat of silence passed between us.

Then he stood. Towering. Intimidating. The air shifted.

“You listen to me, Eleanor,” he said in a low voice. “This marriage is not built on emotion. I don’t care if you hate me, cry in the dark, or scream into pillows. But when you threaten to disrupt my life or my business then we have a problem.”

I stared up at him, unblinking. “You think I care about your business? I’m trying to stay alive.”

He held my gaze, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

Then his phone buzzed.

He glanced at it and cursed under his breath.

“What?” I demanded.

“Brenton's team slipped the tail this morning.”

My blood ran cold.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning he’s gone off the grid.”

An hour later, Alexander's office turned into a war room.

His head of security, Monroe, stood at the far end of the room going over digital footage from the gala. Face was frozen mid-smirk on the screen, caught just before he vanished into the crowd.

“He knew he was being watched,” Monroe said grimly. “He had an exit plan. Probably had eyes on your security team too.”

I sat stiffly in the corner, listening, my heart thudding like war drums.

“We’ve got his last known address,” Monroe continued. “It’s clean. Empty. He’s already moved.”

Alexander stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back. “Put a bounty on information. Quietly. I want him found, but I don’t want this in the press.”

I glanced up. “You’re going to pay to find him?”

“I always pay to eliminate threats,” he said without looking at me trying not to show any form of emotion.

Giving the impression of “Not to protect me. Just to remove problems.”

Still, a sliver of twisted relief slid down my spine. At least something was being done.

Monroe left with orders. The room fell silent.

I stood slowly. “What happens if he comes after me?”

Alexander’s expression was blank. “Then I deal with it.”

“And if you’re too late?”

He turned to me. “I’m never late.”

I hated how sure he sounded. Hated how the tension between us never left the room.

But somehow loved the feeling that I had someone I could rely on.

“I need to leave the city,” I  said.

“No.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You leave now, it looks suspicious,” he said. “The press will sniff it out. The board will ask questions. I have a multi-billion-dollar deal on the table. We keep up appearances. We stay united.”

“I’m not a prop,” I hissed.

“You’re a contractual partner,” he corrected. “And this is what you signed up for.”

My fists clenched. “You’re unbelievable.”

“No, I’m efficient.”

I turned on my heel and stormed out of the room.

I spent the rest of the day in the city, roaming shops I couldn’t afford before the marriage, ducking paparazzi with ease. But the freedom was a lie. I kept looking over my shoulder. Every man who brushed past me on the sidewalk sent a shiver of fear down my spine.

Brenton could be anywhere. Watching. Waiting.

By evening, my nerves were shot.

I returned to the penthouse just after sunset—and found the door already ajar.

My

breath caught.

“Alexander?” I called.

No answer.

I pushed the door open slowly, every instinct screaming.

Then a voice behind me: “Looking for me?”

I whirled around.

Alexander stood there, perfectly calm in a tailored suit, phone in one hand, glass of wine in the other.

“You left the door open?” I snapped.

“I was expecting someone. You, preferably before nightfall.” 

“You scared me.”

“You scare easily,” he said.

I walked past him, ignoring the dig.

But then he added, “ Brenton  sent something today.”

My heart stopped.

He tossed an envelope on the counter. “No return address. Delivered through a third-party courier. No fingerprints. My team’s analyzing the contents now.”

I moved toward it, hand trembling.

But he stepped in my way. “Not yet.”

“I want to see it.”

“No.”

“Why?”

He leaned down until his eyes locked with mine. “Because it was a photo of you. Sleeping. Taken from outside your bedroom window.”

My breath caught. “What—”

“He’s watching you, Eleanor. And he’s not just here to scare you. He’s planning something.”

Everything tilted. The world, the room, your breath.

“I can’t stay here,” I whispered. “I can’t—”

“You will,” he said. “And you’ll be ready.”

He placed something in my hand.

A gun.

Sleek. Cold. Heavy.

“What the hell is this?”

“Insurance.”

“I’m not shooting anyone, Alexander!”

“Then he’ll shoot you first.”

I stared at him, shaking. “This isn’t me. I don’t live like this.”

“You do now,” he said flatly. “You chose this marriage. You chose this protection. So act like it.”

Tears burned my eyes but I  didn’t let them fall.

I held the gun tighter.

And for the first time, I realized…

The contract may have saved me from poverty.

But it might not save me from war.