Chapter 7: "Prepare Yourself for Everything”

The Ferrari pulled into the penthouse garage, and the engine fell silent. Julian’s hand remained on my thigh, resting over the cashmere coat, but this time I didn’t move away. After seeing my father lying in that hospital bed, something inside me had changed.

If pretending to be Julian’s wife was the only way to stay close to him and uncover the truth about the poison, then that was exactly what I would do. No more fighting him at every turn. I would play my role, keep up the act, and stay close until I uncovered the truth.

Beside me, Julian studied me in the dim glow of the dashboard lights.

“You’ve been unusually quiet,” he said, his voice calm and steady.

“I’m tired,” I said, keeping my voice even.

He gave a small nod and finally pulled his hand away before stepping out of the car.

My eyes followed him automatically as he walked around to my side and opened the passenger door. Holding out his left hand, he looked down at me.

“Let’s go inside, fake wife.”

The ride up to the penthouse in the private elevator was silent. When the doors opened, the foyer was dark as usual, the staff already retired for the night. I followed Julian across the foyer and up the floating staircase.

In the master suite, the red accent lights still glowed softly, casting a warm glow across the massive bed and the city skyline beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Julian headed straight for the walk-in closet. I stayed a few steps behind, watching as he opened the sleek digital safe built into the wall and placed the medical files inside.

Through the reflection in the wardrobe’s glass doors, I watched his fingers move across the keypad, careful not to get too close.

The last thing I wanted was to make him suspicious.

A second later, he shut the safe with a solid clunk and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Later that night, as we lay in bed, I finally asked the question that had been haunting me since we left the hospital.

“If you had nothing to do with the poison, then why are you keeping my father’s medical files from me?”

Julian turned slightly on his side of the bed and looked at me, his expression giving nothing away.

“There are things you don’t know, Little Sterling,” he said quietly. “And for now, it’s better if they stay that way.”

His words sent a chill through me.

“What things are you talking about?” I asked, turning to face him. “Tell me, Julian. I can handle it.”

His gaze remained fixed on the ceiling.

“Don’t concern yourself with your father’s medical reports,” he said calmly. “They’re mine to deal with now.”

I frowned.

“What does that even mean?”

“It means exactly what I said.”

Finally, he turned his head and looked at me, his expression unreadable.

“Focus on your role as my wife and prepare yourself.”

My stomach tightened.

“Prepare myself for what exactly?”

“Prepare yourself for everything.”

His voice remained calm, but the words left a bitter taste in my mouth.

“In seven days, you’ll have to prove yourself as my wife, and if you do, maybe I’ll let you see your father’s medical files.”

I stared at him.

“And what’s happening in seven days?” I asked.

Julian looked at me for a long moment before leaning closer.

“Seven days from now, we’ll be attending a merger event,” he said, holding my gaze.

“The board overseeing the merger wants to see a responsible businessman with a stable family life, not the reckless playboy billionaire the media, the streets, and every rumor in the city have painted me to be.”

I thought about his words for a moment, and then it all clicked.

“They want to see the perfect husband?”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Exactly.”

Leaning back against the headboard, his attention remained fixed on me.

“And you’re going to help me win that merger.”

His voice was calm but commanding. It sounded less like a request and more like an order.

I didn’t push any further. For a moment, I looked at him lying there as though he owned the entire world.

Then I slipped beneath the black silk duvet. In the darkness, his arm came around my waist and pulled me against his chest. I stayed still, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing against me.

*

One week later.

Seven days had passed since I signed the contract and became Clara Cross on paper. In those seven days, the world learned that Julian Cross had a wife.

Ironically, I found out the same way everyone else did.

Through headlines splashed across the internet.

The Ghost of Wall Street Is Married. Who Is Clara Cross?

Secret Union Stuns the Streets of New York.

Every article had photos of me. Yet not a single one showed Julian’s face. Even now, he remained a ghost.

For those seven days, I hadn’t stepped outside the penthouse once. It was starting to feel like a golden cage—beautiful, expensive, and locked. I had grown used to the quiet hum of the place, the way everything ran so smoothly that it was easy to forget there were people working behind the scenes to make it happen.

The all-female staff moved through the penthouse like they had been doing it forever. They were polite, efficient, and always kept a respectful distance. All except Laura. She was the youngest member of the staff, somewhere in her early twenties, with quick smiles and a habit of talking a little more than she probably should.

Every morning, she brought me coffee and somehow managed to treat me like a normal person. Unlike the rest of the staff, who always seemed nervous around me and avoided me whenever they could, Laura never did.

“You look like you could use this,” she’d say, setting a cup in front of me with a wink. “And between us, the master’s been staring at the security feeds more than usual. I think he’s checking on you.”

I liked her almost immediately.

Julian kept his distance most of the time, but I always felt his attention on me. He watched me like he was waiting for me to crack, waiting for the act to slip.

But I didn’t. I played my part perfectly.

This morning, the team came again. They dressed me in a sleek navy dress, styled my hair, and did my makeup. Julian watched from his chair the entire time. When they finally left, he rose to his feet and walked over. Without a word, he took my hand and adjusted the diamond ring on my finger.

I let him do it. No pulling away or fighting it.

His gaze lingered on me for a moment, and something shifted in his expression. It looked a lot like approval.

A strange flutter stirred in my chest, and I pushed it down immediately.

Did I just feel butterflies for him? I asked myself.

We took the Maybach to the event. As we drove through the financial district, my father’s old company building came into view. Yellow FBI tape stretched across the entrance, and large signs marked the property as part of an ongoing federal fraud investigation.

The windows were dark and empty.

I know he didn’t do it, I thought to myself, unable to look away.

He couldn’t have.

There is more to this story. I can feel it in my bones.

Julian’s hand settled on my thigh, as usual. And after a moment, I placed mine over his too. He didn’t pull away.

As we approached the event building, the paparazzi were already waiting outside the financial center. The moment we stepped out of the car, camera flashes exploded around us. I leaned into Julian’s side and smiled as though none of it bothered me.

Reporters shouted questions from every direction while people gathered outside whispered among themselves. Some sounded impressed. Others sounded curious.

“That’s him.”

“The Ghost.”

“So the Ghost actually has a face.”

I couldn’t help but notice the comments as Julian and I made our way toward the main entrance.

The moment we made it inside and escaped into a quieter hallway, my smile vanished.

I turned to him.

“You put all those photos out there without asking me first,” I said, keeping my voice low. “I didn’t consent to any of that.”

Julian looked down at me, his expression unreadable as always.

“You signed the contract, Little Sterling. You became mine, and I can do whatever I want with what’s mine.”

Before I could say anything, he took my arm and guided me toward the double doors of the grand ballroom.

The moment we walked in, the room fell silent.

Conversations died mid-sentence, and dozens of heads turned in our direction.

What caught my attention wasn’t that they were looking at us.

It was what they did next.

The crowd of executives immediately stepped aside, clearing a wide path through the center of the room as if they had rehearsed it. No one wanted to be in Julian’s way.

The respect in their eyes was impossible to miss.

But so was the fear.

Except for one man.

While everyone else stepped aside, he walked straight through the parting crowd as if the rules didn’t apply to him. He stopped right in front of us, tall and imposing, he looked like someone in their late fifties. His silver hair was neatly combed back, and the smile on his face carried the kind of danger that made me instantly uneasy.

“Julian,” the man said, his voice smooth and polished. “Congratulations on the marriage. I had no idea you had a wife. Funny how she appeared only a few days before the London vote.”

Julian’s arm remained around my waist, but I felt his hold become noticeably firmer. Not enough to draw attention, but enough for me to sense the warning beneath his calm exterior.

“You don’t know anything about me, Mich,” Julian said, his voice low and dangerous. “And my wife is my business. Now kindly step aside. The event is about to begin.”

Mich’s smile only widened. If Julian’s warning bothered him, he didn’t show it.

With an almost amused look, he stepped back into the crowd and disappeared among the sea of executives, completely unfazed.

As we walked away, I glanced back over my shoulder, searching the crowd for the silver-haired man.

“Who was that?” I whispered.

“Mich Goddard,” Julian replied, his jaw set. “Stay away from him and anything connected to him.”

Something in his tone made me look up at him.

“Why?”

“Because he’s an enemy,” Julian said. “And in this entire room, he’s the only person I consider a serious threat to this merger.”

We then took our seats just as the overhead lights began to dim. A massive digital screen flickered to life behind the stage, covering the ballroom in a soft glow. Moments later, an executive stepped up to the podium, and the last of the conversations faded into silence.

“Before we review the final qualifiers,” the announcer said, “there is one matter that must be addressed. Several organizations have been officially disqualified from consideration due to confirmed fraudulent activities.”

The screen behind him changed, and a new title appeared in bold letters:

DISQUALIFIED FIRMS.

One by one, corporate logos appeared beneath it as the announcer read them out in a steady roll.

“Blackridge Capital.”

A logo flashed onto the screen.

“Evergreen Dynamics.”

Another followed.

Then came the third name.

“Sterling Global.”

The world seemed to stop for a second.

The breath left my lungs in a sharp gasp.

Seeing my father’s life’s work reduced to a fraudulent footnote on a projector screen hit me like a physical blow, and for a moment I couldn’t breathe properly. Tears burned at the back of my eyes, and a heavy grief pressed against my chest, threatening to break whatever composure I had left.

My mind flashed to memories of my father telling me six months ago to keep working hard, that one day this company would be mine.

Suddenly, Julian’s hand covered mine in my lap. He didn’t look at me, his attention still fixed on the stage, but his grip was firm, almost crushing, yet grounding in a way that unsettled me more than it comforted me.

“We will now move to the active contenders,” the announcer said.

He cleared his throat and started calling names one after another.

Then the name dropped.

“The Goddard Group International.”

The room erupted into applause.

Two more companies were called before the final logo materialized.

“Cross Holdings.”

The applause was instantly drowned out by sharp whispers cascading through the rows behind us.

“Cross already has this locked down,” a woman said.

“Nobody stops the Ghost,” another man murmured from the back. “Not if the Goddards stop him.”

The weight of the room pressed down on me.

“I need to use the washroom,” I whispered.

Julian let go of my hand and gave a slow nod. Then he leaned slightly and spoke to a nearby security guard, giving a quiet instruction before the man stepped forward to escort me out.

I rushed into the quiet hallway and slipped into the empty women’s restroom. Leaning over the marble sink, I splashed cold water onto my wrists, my hands trembling as I forced myself to breathe.

The heavy door clicked shut behind me.

I snapped my eyes up to the mirror and gasped.

Julian stood right behind me, his tall frame trapping me against the marble counter.

“What are you doing?”

I spun around, my heart leaping into my throat.

“This is the women’s room. You are not supposed to be here.”

“You did exceptionally well tonight, wife,” he said, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine.

I noticed he called me wife, not the usual fake wife he always used.

He stepped closer, closing the space between us until the heat of his body pressed against mine. His large hand came up, and his thumb traced slowly along my lower lip. His gaze dropped to my mouth.

I didn’t pull away.

His head lowered, his lips agonizingly close to mine, his breath fanning across my skin.

Just as his lips brushed mine, the sharp sound of women laughing in the hallway shattered the silence.

Julian straightened instantly, frustration flashing across his face. His fingers gave my waist one last squeeze before he stepped back.

“You’re learning fast,” he said, already turning toward the door as he made his exit.

Trembling, I waited a few seconds before rushing out of the restroom, needing to escape the suffocating heat of the venue. I hurried down the corridor toward the exit doors, desperate for fresh air, when a woman stepped out from a side alcove and blocked my path.

“Clara Sterling,” a warm voice called. “Or should I say Clara Cross?”

I stumbled to a stop.

Standing before me was a strikingly beautiful woman in a designer gown. She smiled warmly, showing no fear at all.

“I’m sorry,” I said, trying to steady my pulse. “Do I know you?”

The woman extended her hand.

“My name is Diva Richmond. I’m a senior partner aligned with the Goddard group.”

My mind latched onto her words.

If she was with the Goddards… then how did she know my real name?

My guard kicked in instantly, but Diva stepped closer, her voice dropping to an intense whisper.

“I know exactly who you are, Clara. And I know exactly what really happened to your father’s company.”

My heart stopped.

“What?”

Diva glanced toward the ballroom doors, her eyes wide with urgency.

“I don’t have time to explain here, but things are shifting fast. The merger is just a cover for something much worse. Come with me—now.”

Before I could process her words, the heavy exit doors flung open and two of Julian’s towering security guards stepped into the hall.

Diva leaned in and slipped a small, tightly folded piece of paper into my palm.

“Don’t let him see it,” she whispered quickly before turning and disappearing back into the crowd.

“Mrs. Cross,” the lead guard said. “Mr. Cross is waiting in the car. It’s time to leave.”

My fingers closed tightly around the paper as I hid it in the folds of my dress. I let the guards guide me out of the building and straight into the back of the waiting car.

The door slammed shut, sealing out the noise of the city.

The car slid into motion, merging into the dark streets of New York.

Beside me, Julian sat in the shadows, his profile rigid and unreadable. Without a word, he reached across the leather seat and slid his hand back onto my thigh, his thumb pressing into my skin with quiet possession, as usual. I was starting to get used to the way he always claimed my body like I belonged to him.

In the suffocating silence, my heart beat so hard it hurt. My left hand rested on my lap, my fingernails digging into the small folded paper Diva had slipped into my palm, while Julian’s touch burned through the fabric of my dress as though nothing else in the world mattered to him.

I stared out at the passing streetlights, my thoughts circling back to Diva’s warning.

What is in this paper?