Chapter Four – More Than A Vow

Lena wasn’t used to silence being this heavy.

She sat on the edge of the plush armchair in Zane’s study, fingers twisting in her lap. The soft ticking of the wall clock filled the space, and somewhere in the distance, the city buzzed with life. But inside these walls, it felt like the air had frozen.

Zane stood by the fireplace, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the flames that didn’t exist. Just an electric imitation—just like their marriage.

“I looked into the number,” he finally said, voice low and tense. “It’s untraceable. Whoever sent that message was careful.”

Lena’s stomach clenched. “What does that mean?”

“It means someone wants to rattle you. Or me. Or both.” He turned to face her, eyes unreadable. “And they knew exactly what to say to do it.”

The room dimmed further as dusk crept in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Zane moved toward her, the click of his shoes echoing like a warning.

“I need you to understand something,” he said, crouching in front of her. “This arrangement—we both benefit from it. But if someone is trying to threaten you, it becomes my problem too. And I don’t take threats lightly.”

She met his gaze. There was something raw in it. Protective. Fierce.

“I didn’t think they’d come after me,” she admitted, voice soft. “I thought I’d be invisible in all of this.”

“You’re not invisible anymore, Lena,” he murmured. “You’re my wife. On paper or not, people are watching.”

She blinked. That was the first time he’d acknowledged it so plainly—my wife. Not contract, not arrangement, just wife.

And for some reason, it shook her more than the message had.

He rose, straightening his jacket. “You’re not going anywhere alone from now on. You’ll have security with you at all times. No negotiation.”

Lena’s brow furrowed. “Zane, I don’t need—”

“Yes, you do,” he cut in. “This isn’t about pride. It’s about safety. And I won’t risk yours.”

His voice held the weight of something deeper. Something that said he’d lost too much already.

She bit back the protest on her lips.

“Fine,” she murmured.

He exhaled, relieved. “Thank you.”

They fell into a silence that wasn’t awkward but thick with something unspoken. Then Zane crossed to the bar, poured himself a glass of water, and downed it like it was something stronger.

“Tell me,” she said after a pause. “What really happened with your father?”

Zane stilled.

She hadn’t meant to say it. The question had just slipped out, but now that it was there, she didn’t take it back.

“I’ve seen the headlines,” she continued. “Whispers. Boardroom whispers. Everyone thinks you only got your seat because of him. That he built the empire and you’re just… preserving it.”

Zane’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, she thought he’d shut her out again.

But instead, he turned.

“My father was brilliant,” he said. “Charismatic. Ruthless. Everything a billionaire CEO needed to be. But he wasn’t untouchable.”

Lena listened, heart steady.

“They found discrepancies. Embezzlement, manipulation of accounts, backdoor deals. I tried to clean it up, tried to bury what could bring the company down. But in doing that, I burned bridges. Lost trust. Including my board’s.”

“And Cameron?”

Zane’s eyes darkened. "He’s been hovering around ever since, waiting for his chance. He was my father’s former student. When the scandal happened, everyone expected him to take over." 

“But you did.”

“Barely,” Zane muttered. “And the only reason I’m still standing is because of the narrative this marriage has created—stability, trust, legacy.”

Lena was quiet for a long moment.

“I didn’t know all that,” she said gently.

“You weren’t supposed to.” He leaned back against the edge of his desk, his voice suddenly hollow. “I didn’t want to drag you into this mess.”

She looked at him, really looked at him. The hard lines of his face, the tension in his shoulders, the quiet desperation behind all that power. She’d spent so much time thinking he was cold and unreachable.

But maybe he was just… exhausted.

“You’re not dragging me,” she said softly. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Zane’s gaze lifted, locking onto hers. He said nothing, but something shifted in his expression—like a wall lowering, just an inch.

Later that night, Lena retreated to her room but couldn’t sleep.

The penthouse felt different now. Less of a stage, more of a storm shelter. She wandered to her easel and picked up a brush, letting her fingers move instinctively.

Colors bled across the canvas—bold reds, stormy grays, gold streaks that burned through like fire.

She didn’t know what she was painting. Only that it came from somewhere deep.

She was halfway through when a soft knock came.

Zane.

He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, eyes falling on her unfinished piece.

“That’s new.”

“It’s not finished.”

“It’s… intense,” he said, walking closer. “What are you painting?”

She didn’t answer.

After a beat, he said, “You’re talented.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You sound surprised.”

Zane smiled faintly. “I’m not. I just didn’t expect you to be this bold on canvas.”

“You don’t know much about me,” she replied, wiping her hand on a cloth.

“I’m learning.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable this time.

“I’ve decided something,” he said suddenly.

Lena turned. “What?”

“I want to adjust the contract.”

She froze. “Adjust how?”

Zane stepped closer, his expression serious. “I want you to have access to the studio downtown. Full-time. I want to fund your next exhibition—under your name.”

Her mouth fell open. “What?”

“You said you didn’t want anything from me. But that doesn’t mean I can’t give freely.”

She stared at him, heart hammering.

“Why?” she asked, voice hoarse.

“Because if I’m asking you to stand beside me,” he said, “I should stand behind you too.”

Lena swallowed hard. She didn’t know what to say.

So she just nodded.

And in that quiet moment, she realized something terrifying.

She was starting to care.