Chapter 26: He Won't Even Drive You to Work?

The eight-hundred-square-meter penthouse held only three real rooms: a master suite, a study, and a guest room.

Joy pushed open the guest room door to find nothing but a lone leather couch.

She'd have laughed if Megan's words weren't still ringing in her ears "serious status."

Living in the most expensive building in the city, and I don't even have a bed to my name.

Joy lowered herself onto the couch, the leather ice-cold against her skin.

She stared up at the moon through the window, mouth twisting into a short, bitter laugh.

"hiss"

Freezing.

She rubbed her arms and got up, heading for the living room to find something warmer.

She'd barely opened the door when she stopped short.

A messy heap of white fabric sat outside the master bedroom.

Duvet cover, pillow, sheets. All of it everything she'd slept on the night before.

Nathaniel had clearly decided it was tainted and thrown it out like trash.

Joy didn't feel insulted. If anything, her eyes lit up.

Perfect. I was just worried about staying warm.

She scooped up the pile of expensive silk bedding he'd rejected and carried it triumphantly back to the guest room.

A gift, really.

She spread the pillow across the couch and wrapped herself tight in the familiar blanket.

Between the day's chaos and the crying jag that came after, exhaustion pulled her under within minutes.

The next morning.

Lily set breakfast on the table, turned, and nearly dropped the plate in her hands at the sight of Joy walking out of the guest room.

"Ma'am? Why did you sleep in there last night?"

Joy walked over, picked up a glass of water, and offered a faint smile. "Mr. Cross came home."

Implying: once the man of the house returns, naturally she makes room.

Lily, blunt as ever, shot a glare at the still-closed master bedroom door, indignation flaring on Joy's behalf.

"That's not right there isn't even a bed in there"

She stamped her foot, working herself up. "And you're pregnant! What if something happened to you"

Click.

The master bedroom's doorknob turned.

Lily froze mid-sentence, face draining of color.

The door swung open. Nathaniel stood there, expression glacial.

"Good morning! Breakfast's ready please, sir, ma'am, eat up!"

Lily blurted the words out in a rush and fled the room before either of them could respond.

The massive dining table might as well have had a border drawn down the middle.

Nathaniel sat at the head, cutting his food with slow precision.

Joy took only a glass of milk and settled at the far opposite end.

Lily, feeling sorry for her, quietly slid over a plate piled high with bread, beef, and eggs.

Joy checked the wall clock.

Late if I don't move now.

She stopped chewing carefully, grabbed a piece of bread, choked it down in a few bites, and had to gulp most of the milk to clear her throat.

Swallowing the last of it, she wiped her mouth and glanced down the table.

"My clothes are still in the master bedroom..."

Nathaniel didn't look up, knife and fork never pausing. Just a flat glance her way. No answer.

Silence means yes.

Joy set down her cup, stood, and walked straight into the master bedroom.

She grabbed her suitcase and stuffed every piece of clothing and every personal item into it.

Five minutes later, she'd dragged the case into the guest room.

She emerged again dressed for the day, bag in hand, ready to leave.

Lily, just arriving with a bowl of freshly stewed soup, startled. "Ma'am, you're heading out? Have this first, it's still hot."

"I'm full. Fridge it for later."

"Where are you going?" Nathaniel's voice cut in, cold.

"It's stuffy in here. Getting some air." Joy pressed her lips together.

A sharp scoff answered her, followed by the clatter of silverware dropped hard against porcelain.

Nathaniel turned his head, eyes fixed on her retreating back, voice icy.

"Wreck that pregnancy, and you'll have nothing left."

"I know." Joy's voice stayed level. "I know exactly what I'm carrying."

She swapped into flats, grabbed her canvas bag, and slipped out ducking into a subway station restroom to change on the way.

Once off the train, she checked the time and broke into a jog.

At the intersection, a black Rolls-Royce glided to a silent stop beside her, window sliding down.

"Get in."

Nathaniel's voice.

Joy froze, fingers tightening on her bag strap.

His tone, for once, was gentle.

"Good morning, Mr. Cross." She took a breath, opened the door, slid in, buckled up.

Nathaniel sat in the back, flipping through documents, and asked, offhand:

"Your boyfriend doesn't drive you to work?"

Joy caught his eyes in the rearview mirror, expression neutral.

"He's busy. It's out of his way."

Nathaniel's brow creased, clearly unsatisfied.

He closed the folder and addressed the front seat. "George. Pick out a car from the garage for Miss Bennett."

"Yes, sir," George replied instantly.

Joy turned, already refusing. "That's not necessary, sir, the subway works perfectly fine"

"Company benefit," Nathaniel cut her off, tone allowing no argument though his voice softened, almost against his will. "You're pregnant. Take care of yourself."

The kindness felt hollow. Joy's smile came out strained.

His actual wife, meanwhile, wakes up every day wondering if this is the one where she disappears.

"Thank you, sir." She nodded.

Sunlight caught her profile through the window, lighting up the fake, broader bridge of her nose.

Nathaniel's eyes lingered there, something clouding his expression.

Not until the car pulled up outside Cross Enterprises did he look away.

"We've arrived, sir." George opened the door.

Nathaniel blinked out of it, gaze sliding elsewhere.

Soon after, George pulled a brand-new Volvo S90 into the lot below.

"Miss Bennett, keys." George handed them over, pleased with himself.

"Mr. Cross specified a hybrid gas or electric, whichever's convenient. Said the company covers parking and fuel in full, and it's fully insured, so don't worry about a scratch. Drive it however you like."

Joy took the keys, a tangle of feelings rising in her chest.

A car would genuinely help.

The problem is I live at Highgate Residences. There's nowhere to park it there.

At lunch, Megan rushed over, eyes shining. "I heard the boss got you a car? Come on, show me!"

They headed down to the garage together.

Megan yanked the door open, dropped into the driver's seat, and slapped the leather approvingly.

"Whoa top trim, even." She poked her head back out, stunned.

"Joy, this treatment is unreal. Outside of the general assistant and department heads, you're the first assistant to ever get a company car."

Joy's face carried nothing but worry.

She leaned against the door frame and sighed.

"You're overreacting. You're basically executive-level now."

"You don't get it." Joy traced the door handle absently with one finger. "If he ever figures out I'm not just his assistant at work, but his wife at home... I won't see tomorrow morning."

Megan, halfway through inspecting the dashboard, glanced back and shrugged, unbothered.

"It can't be that dramatic. One good night together's worth a hundred days of good behavior, right?"

Joy's mouth twitched.

Good behavior.

Let's just see how this actually plays out.