Chapter 2

The next morning, I woke to a profound stillness. It was the Christmas holiday break, the one period where The Citadel truly fell silent, and I didn't have to worry about the market or the next hostile takeover. I was still twenty-three, and even if I didn't act it, I looked my age—a point of silent, private pride.

I began my elaborate skincare routine. Afterward, I went downstairs to the kitchen, where a perfect bowl of mixed fruit was waiting, exactly as requested.

It was a Christmas holiday. No company meetings, no urgent emails, no power plays to orchestrate. A rare reprieve. I was too young to worry about such things, yet here I was, a puppet master in a gilded cage. Twenty-three, married at twenty to a twenty-eight-year-old CEO. And he is thirty-one. I looked my age, even if I didn't always act it.

I stood before my large vanity mirror, admiring the smooth, rested face that looked back. Just because I didn't smile didn't mean I was a tyrant. Just because someone who offended me somehow disappears from the corporate landscape doesn't mean I was the one who did it. I simply didn't like smiling. It made my chest hurt, a dull ache I preferred to keep hidden. There was nothing to gain from explaining my genuine emotions to the fake people who populated my world and only wanted something from me.

Then, watching my reflection, I smiled—a quick, genuine, private flash of amusement only my reflection ever saw. I gently touched my cheek.

“I can’t believe people get scared of a pretty cute face like mine,” I whispered to myself, momentarily forgetting the previous night's drama, forgetting how I had physically shoved a terrified mistress back into my husband’s arms. “The only thing that brings me joy is me.”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Three sharp, demanding raps shattered the quiet of the morning. My little smile faded instantly, wiped away by the tension tightening my shoulders.

The man I married. Three years. He didn't care about me. I thought he saw me as a child back then. But then again, he was also forced into this. He even refused to kiss me on our wedding day. And left me at our honeymoon. Why was all this nonsense flooding my mind now? Who cares, he was also forced to marry me too so I guess he really hates me that much.

I opened the door, dressed in a silk robe, my face a smooth, professional blank slate.

There he was, standing in front of my door. His dark hair was slightly damp, his green eyes serious and authoritative. He was already in a perfect, expensive suit. He looked every inch the CEO he was—and every inch the fool who was about to stress me out.

“Yes?” I said, the word a neutral shield.

“We are having dinner tonight at the HP restaurant at 9 p.m. Don’t forget. And yes, this dinner is important,” he said as if he already knew I was going to ask, his voice clipped and businesslike. He turned away immediately.

“You could have just sent a text instead of showing your face to me this morning,” I observed, my tone dry and entirely disrespectful. This fool just ruined my peaceful first day of my holiday morning. He would normally send a text or a maid.

He stopped, halting his turn. He glanced back, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “I lost my phone, and don't be late,” he finished, walking off down the hall.

Who did this fool think he was? I closed my door, leaning against the cool wood. The King of , who thinks he's so cool. I truly don't see what women see in him, other than the money and the power. Yes, I guess he is pretty handsome, but his attitude is trash.

Then I paused, realizing something. It wasn't just his attitude that was trash, it was his attitude towards me. And then I shook my head violently. Why was I analyzing the intricacies of that fool when I knew my attitude toward him was equally toxic? Well, it's not like I started it.

“Ahhh!! What is wrong with me today!” I shouted, jumping onto my bed and flopping down like a little kid having a tantrum. I knew the answer: it was the disgusting sight that fool had forced my beautiful eyes to see. Now I had to sit and eat in front of that man, how did he even do it with that girl, that's probably why she was crying. I guess it must have hurt, which felt truly sickening. The fact that he was the only one who could technically ask for a divorce was so annoying. Maybe I should ask him. Who knows, he might agree to it.

—

Later that night, I arrived at the HP restaurant, dressed in the liquid ruby dress that shimmered like fire. I sat alone at the table, pointedly ignoring the empty seat opposite mine, and waited.

I was waiting for over an hour now, watching the glittering, fake faces of Veritas City’s elite. The whole place was a stage, and Eddie was supposed to be here, parading his "happy marriage" to control the narrative.

“So much for DON’T BE LATE,” I muttered, loud enough to cause a few heads to turn briefly in my direction. I didn't care. The longer he took, the more damaging the gossip would be.

Just as my patience was about to break, a man's voice intruded pleasantly into my space.

“Hello.”

I turned, looking up. He was tall, young, and undeniably handsome, maybe around my age. He was perfectly tailored, but his demeanor was far softer and more openly charming than the stiff, arrogant men I usually encountered.

“Sorry but I noticed you've been sitting here so long. Are you waiting for someone?” he said with a charming smile that seemed genuine

“What if I am? Will that make you leave?” I challenged, the automatic corporate defense mechanism kicking in before I could think.

“Oh no, sorry if I was rude, but if you are waiting for someone and making a beautiful lady like you wait for so long, that ain't very nice,” he said with a relaxed smile.

I didn't even know what to say to this guy. His genuine lack of pretense was disarming.

“May I sit with you? But only if you don't mind, of course,” he asked.

And that smile. Usually, such persistent cheerfulness annoyed me, but for some reason, it didn't now. He was already pulling out the chair opposite me, settling in before I could offer a refusal.

I noticed the formal faces here, and the subtle movements of phones. Was he trying to set me up? Was he trying to show people I was cheating on him? It seemed he wanted to end our marriage in style, making me the public casualty.

“So have you ordered anything yet?” he asked, leaning forward slightly.

“No, I haven't. May I ask why you seem so interested in a lady sitting by herself in a restaurant like this, and how did you know I was waiting for someone?” I asked, forcing myself back into conversation.

“I can see you haven't ordered, and you keep looking at the entry every time someone walks in,” he said.

Oh, so he's been watching me this entire time.

“And why are you here alone? People don't normally come alone here, you know,” I countered. The waiter arrived with the wine and glasses, setting them down.

“I, too, was waiting for a blind date... But she didn't show up,” he explained with a slight, humorous shrug. “So I started watching you instead to buy time... I received a text from her later that she could not make it. I was about to leave, but I just wanted to wait to see who you were waiting for, keeping a beautiful girl like you patiently waiting. But this long was crazy, so I had to keep you company.”

Wow, he really does talk a lot. But he didn't seem like someone involved in my husband's games. He was too transparently charming.

“I have a Hubby to sit alone,” I said, a deliberate jab, watching his reaction.

“Oh, I can see that. I hope I'm not disturbing,” he said, the smile faltering only slightly.

“Yes, but it's fine,” I said, and drank some wine, watching him from over the rim of the glass.

Another hour passed and I’ve been listening to this man speaking nonstop.

“Oh,... It's almost two hours now,” he noted, his tone gently questioning my husband's respect for me.

Then, a voice came from behind me—a voice that sliced through the chatter of the room like cold steel.

“It seems you didn't get your messages.”

We both looked up. It was my husband. Eddie Grayson. He was standing right there, his expression unreadable, and Julian instantly stiffened.