I let the book go immediately and whipped around to find my husband standing before the door. He looked tired—really, really tired—and I knew it was because of me.

For a moment, I thought the scowl on his face and the phone he was holding meant he had finally realized that I was the one who had brought his investments down. Was that what he was talking about? But instead, he just stalked toward me and held the phone up so I could see the picture.

The same picture of Lorna—this time captioned with: "Your wife killed her."

I gasped, my breath hitching in my throat. My eyes flicked up to Xavier’s, wondering if he believed it too.

"I didn't do it," I blurted before he could even ask.

"I know." His voice was softer than I expected, and the scowl on his face eased.

I shook my head furiously. "I didn't. I really didn't!" The words spilled from me, over and over again, as if saying them enough times could erase the accusation, could make that image disappear. "I had only just—"

"Marieclaie."

Xavier’s voice grounded me. His warm hands cupped my cheeks, his touch surprisingly gentle. His phone was already tucked back into his pocket. He guided me toward the couch in the library, settling me down before stepping away.

When he returned, he pressed a glass of water into my hands. I downed big gulps until the glass was empty.

"Who’s she?" His voice was calm, but I knew who he meant.

"Lorna," I answered. "A worker from my mother’s company. I fired her."

His brows furrowed. "You went to your mother’s company today?" I nodded. "What happened after you fired her?"

I inhaled deeply. "She cussed at me." My voice wavered. "Insulted me too. I called Mike on her. Then when I got home, I received the exact same photo, saying I killed her."

My hands trembled atop my lap. Xavier noticed but didn’t move to touch me this time. This conversation wasn’t part of our arrangement, wasn’t supposed to happen. But somehow, I needed someone to talk to.

The same person I was supposed to kill.

"I know you didn’t kill her," he said, his voice firm. "And I will find the person who did."

I snapped my gaze up to his. "You shouldn’t. It isn’t necessary."

He scoffed. "It isn’t necessary?" His tone sharpened. "Someone is out there threatening my wife, and you're telling me it’s not necessary to find them?"

I exhaled heavily and stood. "It’s not, Xavier. This isn’t part of our deal. Maybe we should look at our contract again. Things are getting blurry and--"

"So?" He cut me off, his voice growing rougher. "I should just sit back while someone keeps sending my wife threats?" He stepped closer, his height looming over me. "What kind of husband would that make me?"

He didn’t wait for my answer before continuing.

"You are my wife, Marieclaie. Whether or not this is fake."

With that, he turned on his heel and strode toward the door. But just before leaving, he paused.

"And your security will be topped up too."

Then he was gone, leaving me alone with my spiraling thoughts.

I sank back onto the couch, my heart heavy.

Whoever this person was—they weren’t just a danger to me. They could be a threat to Xavier, too.

Was I worried for him?

The answer should have been no. But it didn’t come as quickly as it should have.

I wasn’t worried for him. But if this person was after both of us, didn’t that mean we had the same enemy?

Right.

The next day, I took a day off work. Peppe was handling my father’s company, while Cynthia took care of my mother’s.

"No work today?"

I turned from my spot on the couch, watching as Xavier descended the stairs. He was dressed impeccably—gorgeously. My eyes shouldn’t linger on him the way they did. I shouldn’t think about how handsome he was.

But I did anyway.

"No," I responded, standing and circling the chair.

"If it’s too much for you, find a capable CEO." His tone was measured, calculated. He wasn’t just suggesting it—he was trying to pull me out of danger.

But I wanted this. I wanted to do it myself.

"I’m just taking the day off. Doesn’t mean I’ll quit."

Xavier studied me for a moment, then nodded. "There’s a birthday event tomorrow. I was invited. You’ll come with me."

I nodded immediately. He didn’t need to ask—that was the whole purpose of this marriage, after all.

"My black Amex card is on my nightstand," he added as he grabbed his keys. "Take it and buy a dress."

"Thank you."

He gave me a brief nod, then walked out of the house.

Later that day, Anna came over as I had called her. We went shopping together at Unique Boutique. Their dresses were breathtaking—some of the most elegant I had ever seen. I picked up everything I liked without hesitation. Anna chose a few for herself too, though she hesitated, calling it "using your husband’s money."

By the time we were done, we were starving. Mike drove us to the nearest restaurant, and as we ate, I slid my phone across the table to show Anna the picture.

She gasped—loudly.

"This is insane." Her wide eyes flicked up to mine, filled with concern.

"I know, right?" I sighed, stirring my soup absentmindedly. "I don’t even know what to make of it. I don’t know who could be behind this."

Anna’s face turned serious. "Does your husband know?"

I nodded.

She leaned in slightly. "This has to be someone close to you."

My brows knitted together. "Close to me?"

"Not intimately, like friends," she clarified. "It could be someone you know but don’t actually know. Someone keeping tabs on you—on everything you do."

A shiver ran down my spine.

"That was my exact thought!" I said, my voice rising with realization. "But I still have no idea who it could be."

Anna gave me a soft smile and reached across the table, placing her hand over mine. "Why don’t we find this person together?" she suggested. "Maybe check if there are any secret cameras or hidden trackers on you."

I nodded slowly.

But then she hesitated, her expression darkening.

"If you ask me, Marie… I’d say your husband might be behind this."

My spoon clattered against the bowl.

"What?"