All Chapters of Married To Him By Midnight : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The mistake Lydia made was assuming fear would make me smaller.Fear does the opposite to me.It sharpens.The morning after the near-attack, the city looked exactly the same as it always had—glass towers, hurried pedestrians, the illusion of order. But I felt different moving through it. More alert. More deliberate.I dressed carefully, not for comfort, but for intention.Adrian didn’t try to stop me from leaving the penthouse this time. He watched silently as I picked up my bag, his expression tight but controlled.“You don’t have to prove anything,” he said.“I’m not,” I replied. “I’m refusing to disappear.”That earned a slow nod.“I’ll meet her today,” he said.“I know.”“At the office,” he continued. “Private. No audience.”“Good,” I said. “She hates not being watched.”His gaze lingered on me. “If she reaches out to you”“She already has,” I interrupted calmly.That stopped him.“When?” he asked.“This morning,” I replied, holding up my phone.One message. No greeting.We need

The penthouse felt heavier than usual. Not from the city noise below or the walls themselves, but from the weight of my own thoughts. I wandered from room to room, hands brushing over surfaces I barely noticed before, wondering exactly what I was doing here why I kept standing in a world that wasn’t mine by birth or profession, and why I kept playing a role I wasn’t even being “paid” to perform.Adrian’s absence made the space feel both empty and suffocating. He had left early again, heading to a series of meetings no one had invited me to, discussions that dictated the course of his empire. And I? I had spent hours trying to predict, manage, and anticipate reactions of the board, of Lydia, of everyone who thought they could manipulate me into disappearing.It struck me suddenly: what was I even doing? I hadn’t been trained for this life. No one had prepared me to be a pretense bride, a strategic partner, or a buffer for power struggles. And yet, here I was, giving everything I had ti

The morning began like any other except it wasn’t.I knew the moment I opened my eyes that today would be different. It wasn’t the city outside, which buzzed with its usual indifferent rhythm. It was the energy in the penthouse, the subtle tension that lingered even in Adrian’s absence.He had left early, heading to meetings that mattered more to him than any of my musings about strategy or control. I stayed behind, letting myself sink into the quiet, reflecting on yesterday’s encounter with Lydia. Her overconfidence, her reckless positioning, her inability to see the bigger game it was all a mistake she didn’t even know she was making.I wandered to the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring at the skyline. The city never seemed to rest, but I realized something: I had stopped sleeping as well. My mind was always calculating, always analyzing, always anticipating. But unlike before, that awareness no longer felt like a burden. It was a weapon.By mid-morning, the first ripple of Lydia’s m

Elara’s POVI didn’t see the first one.That was the mistake.It happened during breakfast quiet, ordinary, almost harmless on the surface. Adrian’s phone vibrated once on the counter. He didn’t check it. He rarely did when we were together.But something about the timing lodged itself in my mind.When it vibrated again ten minutes later, I noticed his jaw tighten just slightly. Not enough for anyone else to catch. Enough for me.“You don’t have to ignore it,” I said carefully.He glanced at the screen, then turned it face down.“It’s nothing.”That was when I knew it wasn’t.I didn’t ask. I didn’t press. I’d learned by now that silence often revealed more than confrontation.Later that afternoon, I found out.Not because I was snooping, Not because I was insecure but because Lydia wanted me to know.The envelope arrived at the penthouse addressed to Adrian.No return name.No company seal.Just thick, expensive paper that felt deliberate in my hands.I shouldn’t have touched it.But

Lydia didn’t disappear.That was the mistake people always made thinking silence meant retreat. With women like her, silence was just strategy changing shape.The first gift arrived three days after the gala.It wasn’t loud or dramatic. No note. No name. Just a large, white box delivered to Adrian’s office, wrapped with deliberate precision. His assistant called before opening it, uncertain.I told her to leave it sealed.Adrian came home that evening with the box still untouched, set carefully on the marble counter like something that might stain if mishandled.“She’s testing boundaries,” he said.“She’s testing me,” I replied.We opened it together.Inside was a watch.Not just any watch, one I recognized instantly from old interviews, from archived photos online. A piece Adrian used to wear years ago. Before me. Before this life collided with his past.It wasn’t romantic.It was territorial.She wasn’t saying I want you.She was saying I was here first.Adrian closed the box withou