The city was cold that night. Rain slid down the windows of the glass tower where Sebastian kept his empire running. From the outside, it looked strong. Lights glowed like fire. Cars moved below, small as ants. But inside, things were breaking.
Aria walked through the hall, her heels clicking on marble. Her reflection followed her on every polished surface, but she barely looked at it. She had a meeting with herself in her mind, and no one could interrupt it.
Sebastian was waiting in his office. He stood near the window, a drink in his hand. His suit was perfect, his tie dark, his face calm. But his eyes were sharper than glass.
"You're late," he said without turning.
Aria didn't bow. "I didn't know I was expected."
He finally faced her. "You're my wife. You're always expected."
The words cut, but she didn't show pain. She stepped closer, keeping her voice steady. "A wife, Sebastian, is more than a picture frame you keep in your tower."
