What the Heart didn't Know

POV: AdrianI walked out of the courthouse, the knowledge of the immense check Amelia had offered feeling like a lead weight. Enough to save Martha. The cold wind whipped against my face, but I barely noticed. I felt the chill deep in my bones—the chill of selling my name."Adrian."I ignored Amelia's voice. I needed space. I needed to breathe. I needed to verify the terms of this damn transaction, especially the one that mattered most.She caught up to me by the exit. "Stop. We need to finalize the paperwork. The lawyers are waiting.""The lawyers can wait," I snapped, turning to face her. My pride was a raw wound. "I need confirmation of the expense. Before I sign anything else, I need Dr. Chen to confirm the full cost of the procedure and the scheduling."Amelia's eyes narrowed. "You doubt my liquidity?""I doubt your word, Ms. Hayes. This is Martha's life. This is not a negotiation."She stared at me, the sharp-edged anger in her gaze softening slightly as she acknowledged the dept

POV: AdrianThe chaos of the wedding was nothing compared to the silence in this suite. Gray Thompson had infiltrated our ceremony, spat venom at Amelia, and vanished. Now, the marriage of convenience was a target.I paced the massive hotel suite, the expensive carpet mocking the adrenaline in my veins. I was already on the phone, organizing discreet security for the service entrance."He was here to send a message," I said, disconnecting the call. "He wanted to know how fast we could move. He wanted to see if our marriage was real."Amelia stood by the window, rigid, clutching her extravagant bridal bouquet. "He wanted to ensure the judge saw his disruption. He wanted to plant doubt.""He succeeded," I replied, running a hand over my freshly bruised jaw. "Now we have to assume he has eyes on us everywhere. From this moment on, every single conversation, every gesture, is a performance.""I know the rules, Adrian," she snapped, her voice brittle. "We're married. Let's act like it. What

POV: AdrianI stood by the dusty, single-pane window of the secluded apartment, the weak morning sun barely penetrating the glass. I hadn't slept, watching the quiet, unfamiliar street below. The grime of last night's fight, the blood, the sweat, the sick crunch of bone are still clung to my skin, a constant reminder of the danger. My focus was a razor-edge.Amelia’s voice, low and focused, came from the back room. She was on the phone, her corporate ruthlessness finally surfacing, arguing with Elias Thorne, the lawyer whose debt was now our only legal lifeline. Good. She was fighting.My phone rang, an unrecognizable number, not the secure line. I answered immediately, stepping toward the window. "Cole."It was Gray Thompson, his voice a distorted, vicious snarl, the connection crackling like static and malice. "You broke his arm, bodyguard. A very expensive arm. You know what you've done?""I know I defended my wife," I retorted, keeping my voice low and level, denying him the satisf

Adrian's POVI had barely closed my eyes since the wedding. Each time I did, Amelia's ghostly visage haunted me, her quivering lips and the way her body had gone soft in my embrace, the sheer terror I had to shield her from. When I wasn't ensnared in that memory, Gray invaded my thoughts, his self-satisfied grin, and how he had dissipated into thin air. No, Gray's appearance had been no coincidence, and I couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that a sinister truth lurked beneath the surface of the entire situation. I had signed a contract to be a husband; now I was a sentinel.Morning dawned, yet the sun’s rays offered no warmth as I leaned against the balcony railing. Below, the garden thrummed softly with the songs of birds while silence reigned in the house except for the faint echoes of Nora’s laughter from the playroom. My jaw tightened. Amelia wore a mask of normalcy, rising early, attending meetings, and smiling for Nora’s benefit, but I could see the cracks behind her façade. S

Amelia's POVI was exhibiting a new kind of difference; this was not my familiar frigid and distant demeanor, but rather an unsettling jumpiness, flinching at the slightest touch, and it was hard to overlook.Earlier that morning, a maid had accidentally dropped a plate, causing me to bolt upright, terror etched on my face."What was that?" I shouted, striding toward the source of the sound, my heart hammering against my ribs."I’m sorry, ma’am. It was an accident," the maid stammered, trembling and keeping her head down. Panic churned in the maid's mind, fearing this mistake would spell the end of her employment.She was all too aware of my reputation for being both icy and fiercely temperamental. When I wasn’t around, they often whispered a multitude of unflattering nicknames, one of which was "the Ice Queen.""Just be careful," I murmured unexpectedly, my voice quiet, leaving the maid momentarily stunned before she steadied herself, still wary of my lingering presence.“Do you have