Chapter 4

Elena’s pov

The reception blurred in the best way. People came up to us in small groups, offering congratulations and warm smiles. 

I answered them as best I could, but most of my attention stayed on Alexander. 

His hand never left the small of my back for long. Every time someone pulled him into a short conversation, his eyes found mine again afterward, like he was checking that I was still there.

“You two look good together,” one of his colleagues said at one point.

Alexander’s answer was quiet and certain. “We are.”

I felt the words settle under my ribs.

We moved through the rest of the evening in a steady rhythm, toasts, a slow dance that felt more private than it should have in a room full of people, small conversations that came and went. 

Mom found me near the edge of the room at one point and squeezed my hand without saying much. 

She didn’t need to. I already knew what she was thinking.

When the night finally began to thin out, Alexander leaned close.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“Yes.”

We said the last of our goodbyes. The coordinator handed me a small bag with a few personal things. 

Alexander’s driver was already waiting outside. 

The cool night air felt good against my skin after the warmth of the reception.

In the car he kept my hand in his, thumb moving slowly across my knuckles. 

We didn’t talk much at first. The quiet felt comfortable, full of everything we had already said earlier in the side room.

“You’re quiet,” he said after a few minutes.

“I’m just… full,” I answered. “In a good way. Today still doesn’t feel completely real.”

He glanced at me. “It is real.”

“I know. That’s what makes it strange. This morning I was still in my old bedroom. Now I’m sitting here with a new last name and a ring that feels heavier than it should.”

His thumb kept moving across my hand. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I think I already am.”

The rest of the drive passed in that same easy silence. When the car stopped in front of the building, Alexander stepped out first and came around to open my door. 

His hand stayed at my back as we walked inside and rode the elevator up.

The penthouse was dark when we stepped inside. Alexander turned on a single low light in the living room and set his jacket over a chair. 

I slipped off my shoes and felt the cool floor under my feet.

“I’m going to change,” I said.

“All right.” He kissed the side of my head. “I’ll be right here.”

I walked down the short hallway to the master bedroom. 

The dress came off carefully. I hung it up, pulled on the soft robe I had left there earlier, and stood for a moment looking at the new ring on my finger. 

The day still felt almost too full to hold. I could still hear his voice from the side room saying Mrs. Voss like he was testing the shape of it.

When I came back into the living room, Alexander was standing near the low table by the windows. 

A slim black folder lay open in front of him. He wasn’t moving.

“Alexander?”

He didn’t look up right away. When he did, his face had changed. 

The warmth from the side room and the reception was gone.

His eyes were flat, careful, the way they got when he was assessing something that had already disappointed him.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

He closed the folder slowly. The sound was quiet but final.

“Sit down, Elena.”

The use of my full name instead of anything softer made the air feel thinner. I stayed where I was.

“What is that?”

“Something I was given tonight.” His voice was even, almost polite. “While you were saying goodbye to your mother.”

I took a step closer. “Given by who?”

“That doesn’t matter yet.” He set the folder down with deliberate care. “What matters is what’s inside it.”

My stomach tightened. “You’re scaring me a little.”

“Am I?” He looked at me for a long moment. There was no softness left in his expression. “I need you to explain something to me. And I need you to do it without lying.”

The word hit harder than I expected.

“I haven’t lied to you,” I said.

He didn’t answer right away. He only watched me, waiting, the same way he watched people across a negotiation table when he already believed he had the upper hand.

The quiet between us stretched. I could still feel the earlier part of the night on my skin, the side room, his hands, the way he had said my new name like it meant something. All of it felt suddenly far away.

“Alexander,” I said again, softer. “Talk to me. Whatever that is, just tell me. You’re looking at me like I’m a stranger.”

“Maybe I should have looked closer sooner.”

The sentence landed cold. I felt it in my hands first, then in my chest.

“What does that mean?”

He picked the folder back up and held it out, not quite offering it, just making sure I saw it.

“I think you already know,” he said.

I didn’t move to take it. My hands had gone cold.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. “You’re going to have to actually tell me.”

He studied my face for another long second, as if searching for something he had already decided was there.

“Sit down,” he said again.

This time the words were quieter, but they left even less room to argue.

I stayed on my feet a moment longer, the soft robe suddenly feeling thin, the new ring heavy on my finger. 

The man who had kissed my forehead less than two hours ago was gone. 

In his place stood someone colder, already deciding something I hadn’t been given the chance to answer.

I looked at the closed folder in his hand and felt the last of the evening’s warmth leave the room.