The morning came too quickly. I barely slept, replaying every word Adrian said the night before. “I don’t do apologies.” His arrogance clung to my mind like smoke — fitting, since that was exactly what he’d filled the house with.

By the time I walked into the living room, he was already dressed — sleek, flawless, exuding power without even trying. His black suit fit him like sin, the kind of tailored perfection that screamed wealth and control. He looked up from his phone, his expression cold and unreadable.

“You’re late,” he muttered.

“I’m not,” I replied sharply, clutching my purse. “It’s exactly eight.”

His gaze flickered to the clock, then back at me. A ghost of a smirk appeared on his lips — a taunt. “And yet, I’ve been waiting.”

I bit my tongue. Today wasn’t about pride or power. It was about survival. About keeping up appearances in a world that would rip me apart the moment I slipped.

The drive to the company was painfully silent. He didn’t speak. I didn’t either. The only sound was the hum of the car and the occasional click of his lighter when he thought I wasn’t looking.

The moment we arrived, I was thrown into his world — a world of ruthless men in suits, elegant women with diamond smiles, and too many secrets hiding beneath expensive perfume. The investors had flown in from Europe, and everything had to look perfect. Including us.

As we entered the main hall, Adrian’s hand slipped around my waist. It was gentle but possessive — a silent command to play along.

I stiffened instinctively, forcing a smile when the first man approached.

“Mr. Voss” the man said, shaking Adrian’s hand enthusiastically. “And this must be your lovely wife. You’re even more beautiful than your photos, Mrs. Voss.”

I smiled politely. “Thank you.”

Adrian’s thumb brushed against my waist not affectionately, but as a warning. I could feel his message: Stay quiet. Play your role.

Throughout the meeting, he was in his element speaking confidently about mergers, numbers, and market projections. I barely recognized him. The man who stood beside me at the altar with a detached gaze was now commanding a room like a god.

Every time someone addressed me, Adrian would answer before I could.

Every time I tried to contribute, his eyes would silence me.

When lunch was served, he leaned close enough for only me to hear. “Smile,” he whispered, his voice a soft threat. “You’re doing that thing where your face looks like you’re plotting my murder.”

“Maybe I am,” I muttered through gritted teeth, pretending to laugh at a joke one of the investors told.

His lips curved, but not in amusement. “You’ll have to do better than that, sweetheart.”

That word — sweetheart — dripped with venom. He knew exactly what he was doing. The control, the subtle manipulation, the way he always seemed one step ahead of me.

Halfway through the presentation, one of the investors, a tall woman with sharp eyes, leaned toward me.

“You two make such a striking couple,” she said. “What’s your secret?”

I froze. Adrian didn’t. His hand moved to the back of my chair, his tone smooth and confident. “Mutual respect,” he said, not missing a beat. “And knowing when to take control.”

My stomach turned.

He looked straight at me when he said it, his eyes holding mine — daring me to contradict him in front of everyone.

I didn’t. I couldn’t. The room was watching.

So, I smiled and nodded, even though every part of me wanted to scream.

When the meeting ended hours later, I felt suffocated — like I’d been performing on a stage where every line was scripted by him. The investors left pleased, unaware that the perfect couple act was nothing more than a beautifully wrapped lie.

The moment we stepped out of the conference hall, I turned to him.

“You didn’t have to talk over me like that,” I said quietly.

He didn’t even glance at me. “You weren’t saying anything important.”

My chest tightened. “That’s not the point, Adrian. You—”

He cut me off. “Evelyn, not here.” His voice dropped, sharp and dismissive. “Don’t embarrass yourself.”

I glared at him. “You mean don’t embarrass you.”

He stopped walking, his jaw tightening. “Watch your tone.”

I wanted to throw something at him. Instead, I walked ahead, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me break.

The car ride back was worse than the one before. Silence stretched between us like barbed wire. I stared out the window, counting the seconds until I could finally breathe again.

When we reached the mansion, I didn’t wait for him to open the door. I stormed inside, heels clicking against the marble floor.

But before I could head upstairs, the housekeeper ran toward me, panic written all over her face.

“Madam!” she cried, breathless. “It’s Liam—he—he fainted!”

The world stopped.

“What?” My heart dropped into my stomach. “Where is he?”

“They just rushed him to the hospital,” she said, trembling. “He collapsed while playing in the garden. He wasn’t breathing properly—”

I didn’t let her finish. I turned and ran for the door. Adrian’s voice called out behind me, calm and low, but I didn’t care.

I didn’t care about the meeting, or the investors, or his image.

All I could think about was Liam.

By the time Adrian caught up to me, I was already in the car, tears streaming down my face. My fingers shook as I tried to start the engine, but before I could, his hand covered mine.

“Evelyn—”

“Don’t,” I snapped, my voice cracking. “Don’t you dare tell me to calm down. This is your fault—”

His brows furrowed. “My fault?”

“Yes!” I shouted. “You smoked near him! You let him breathe in that poison! You—” My voice broke completely, the words tumbling out between sobs. “If anything happens to him, Adrian, I swear I’ll never forgive you.”

He stared at me silently for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

Then, without a word, he took the wheel and drove.

The ride to the hospital was a blur of flashing lights and tears. I pressed my hands against my chest, trying to breathe, trying to stay calm.

When we finally arrived, I ran inside, searching for any nurse, any doctor — anyone who could tell me he was okay.

The last thing I remember before the door to the emergency room closed was Adrian standing still in the hallway, his face cold, unreadable — yet his hands trembled at his sides.

He didn’t move. He didn’t speak.

He just watched as the door shut between us, sealing the growing fracture that neither of us knew how to repair.