The morning after the tense dinner, Emily woke to find a sleek black credit card on her nightstand, accompanied by a folded note.
> "Buy what you need. Wardrobe, essentials, whatever keeps the press quiet. —L"
No "good morning." No smiley face. Just another order disguised as generosity.
She dropped the note on the floor and stared at the card for a few seconds.
So this was what marriage meant in Liam Ashford's world—transactions instead of trust, receipts instead of real connection.
She stuffed the card into her drawer and left it there. She'd rather wear the same jeans ten times than feel like she owed him something.
---
The elevator opened to Carmen's soft voice. "Good morning, Mrs. Ashford. Mr. Ashford has a press brunch today and requested your presence."
Emily paused mid-step. "He requested? As in, I have a choice?"
Carmen's smile was too diplomatic. "You always have a choice, ma'am. But... he did send a dress."
Of course he did.
Two hours later, she stepped out of the car in front of the Manor Grand Hotel, wearing a white midi dress that hugged her body with the kind of quiet elegance Liam seemed to like. A bold red lip completed the look. If she had to play the part, she might as well win the scene.
Inside, Liam was already seated at a private corner table with three people Emily didn't recognize—two men in expensive suits and a woman who looked like she ran fashion magazines in her sleep.
Liam stood when he saw her. "Gentlemen, this is my wife, Emily."
Wife. That word still hit like a slap. She managed a soft smile and sat beside him.
The conversation was polite but sharp. Business, money, development permits, international deals. Liam rarely looked her way. But when he did, it wasn't a glance—it was a calculated pause, a reminder that she was his accessory in this performance.
At one point, the woman leaned in. "You're very composed for someone thrown into the spotlight so fast, Emily."
She smiled. "I guess I've always been good at pretending."
Liam's jaw tensed beside her, just slightly. She saw it, even if no one else did.
---
Back at the penthouse, Emily threw her heels aside the moment the door shut. She was tired of playing dress-up in a world she didn't understand.
Liam entered minutes later, tossing his phone on the counter.
"You did well."
She turned. "That's it? I did well?"
He raised an eyebrow. "You smiled. You didn't say anything reckless. That's what this is about."
"No. What this is about is how I keep waking up feeling like I'm in someone else's movie."
"You agreed to this."
"I agreed to help my family. I didn't agree to become your doll."
He walked past her, loosening his tie. "You're not a doll."
"Then why don't you talk to me like I'm human?"
Silence.
She hated how much she wanted him to turn around. To explain himself. To show even a crack in his expensive armor.
Instead, he said, "This marriage protects you. The more real it looks, the safer you are."
"Safe from what?"
"Everything that comes with my name."
The air felt heavier now.
She stepped closer. "You talk like you're dangerous."
He met her eyes. "That's because I am."
---
Later that night, she couldn't sleep.
She wandered into the dark living room barefoot, the city lights painting silver patterns on the floor.
Liam was already there, seated on the balcony with a drink in hand. Alone. Still in the shirt from dinner. His sleeves were rolled up again, tattoos just barely visible beneath the linen.
He didn't look like a billionaire now. He looked like a man who hadn't slept in years.
"You don't rest, do you?" she asked softly.
He didn't turn. "Not really."
"Can I ask you something?"
A beat. "Depends."
"Why me?"
He glanced over his shoulder, shadows playing across his face.
"You needed saving. I needed a wife. It made sense."
"That's not an answer. That's a strategy."
"Everything I do is strategy."
"Even now?"
He finally looked at her. "Especially now."
She stepped onto the balcony, wind sweeping her hair around her shoulders.
"I don't know if I can do this, Liam. The lies. The cameras. The silence."
He studied her. "You don't have to fall in love with me. You just have to survive beside me."
"And if I want more than survival?"
His stare lingered. Then he stood, finishing his drink.
"Then you're playing a dangerous game, Emily."
And just like that, he walked away—leaving her in the night air, heart thudding harder than she wanted to admit.
---