CHAPTER 5: THE DUTY

The penthouse was still when Jeremi stepped in. Not empty. Just still like someone had been there and chosen to take up space without making noise.

 This one was controlled. Chosen.

The lights were dimmed. A faint scent of jasmine lingered.

 He walked in at midnight. His jacket hung over one shoulder, collar loosened. Brooklyn’s warehouse breach had taken all day to contain. His team had plugged the leak, but the internal betrayal still sat like ash in his chest.

 What waited at home was not what he expected.

 Ellen his wife sat by the wide window in the drawing room, dressed in soft white, her shawl loose around her shoulders. Her legs tucked beneath her, she looked almost regal. Almost unreachable.

 She wasn’t watching the city.

 She was watching him.

 

“You’re back late,” she said, the calm in her voice new. Polished. Like glass that had stopped fearing cracks.

 Jeremi loosened his tie and poured himself a drink. “Business doesn’t pause for wedding nights. Or charity events.”

 “I handled both without you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So I’ve heard.”

 He took a sip, then looked at her. Really looked.

 She was... composed.

 Not the trembling, uncertain girl in the bath. Not the quiet shadow from the chapel.

 Something in her had sharpened, cooled. 

“What happened today?” he asked.

 Eva tilted her head slightly. “You mean besides being sized up by your ex-lovers and nearly mistaken for a nun?” And for some reason she didn't know how good she could lie with a straight face but denying who she was , another level entirely 

 

He paused mid-sip. “You handled it?”

 “I smiled. I played my role. I listened. I spoke little. Just like you prefer.”

 He walked closer, drink in hand, studying her like a puzzle he hadn’t agreed to build.

 “You’re adapting.”

“I’m surviving,” she corrected.

 A tense pause.

 “I saw the press photos,” Jeremi said finally. “You looked... believable.”

 “Is that all I need to be?”

 “For now.”

 

She nodded once, stood slowly, and turned toward the hallway.

 “I’m going to bed,” she said, her back to him.

 “Ellen.”

 She stopped.

 

He didn’t say anything else. Just her sister's name, the name he thought was hers. Like a warning. Or a question.

 And she turned around quickly in disbelief 

"Please sir."

 

He poured himself another drink and sat across from her. But his mind wasn’t entirely with her. It was unsettled about what happened between them before the wedding and how nonchalant she seems now .

 Three weeks before Ellen’s death, they had fought.

 

She had sent him something a file, She confided in him, demanding him being discreet.

And Jeremi, who didn’t like being cornered, had shut her out without a reply.

 Now, every time he looked at Ellen, her face Ellen’s face he just couldn't believe or understand what she was up to . The letter. His lack of response. The guilt.

 And the question:  If she remembers, when will she throw it in my face?

 “You said I looked ‘believable’ today,” Eva murmured, interrupting his thoughts.

 Jeremi glanced up. “You did.”

 “It was exhausting,” she admitted. “Pretending to belong. Smiling for causes I only read about an hour before walking in.”

 His brows rose. “You read about the Foundation?”

 “I had to know what I was representing.”

 He leaned back in his seat, surprised. “Most people don’t bother.”

 “I’m not most people.”

 A beat passed.

 “You’ve changed,” he said finally.

 She met his gaze. “Or maybe I’ve remembered how to survive.”

 Eva had memorized the brochure earlier. She could still hear the rehearsed words.

 A public initiative for elderly welfare, senior health programs, affordable retirement housing, and political advocacy for pension reform.

 The Foundation made Jeremi’s name look noble perfect for his quiet ambitions to enter politics. Nothing screamed “electable” like being seen helping New York’s forgotten generation.

 But what she hadn’t expected was the presence of women like the one from St. Agnes the donor who had whispered, “Sister....?”

 Eva hadn’t looked back.

 She hadn’t dared.

 Jeremi watched her. “You’re different than yesterday.”

 

She turned halfway, voice quieter. “You married someone you didn’t know. And now you’re afraid she’s becoming someone you can’t control.”

 His expression flickered just for a second.

“I never said I wanted to control you.”

 “You never said anything,” she replied. “Not even the truth about why you really married me.”

 Jeremi’s jaw clenched.

 She turned and walked toward the hall, pausing once more at the threshold.

 “You keep looking at me like you’re waiting for a fight we haven’t had yet,” she whispered. “And I keep wondering if I’ll survive it.”

 Then she disappeared into the dark.

 And Jeremi sat in silence haunted by his thoughts now.