"Hey! Hector."
"Do you think that I really want this marriage?"
"Do you think that I really like you?"
"Hey! What do you call me for?"
"Guess what? I hate you."
"Just two weeks in this marriage. No care. No kindness. No peace. You didn't even consider me a wife."
"If it wasn't because my father forced me into this mess, I wouldn't be here pretending I want a life with you. Caleb loves me. He always has."
Selina's jaw tightened. Pain sat under her bone. She breathed slowly and let it out.
"In my presence you ignore me," she said. "You make calls with Amanda, my worst enemy."
Hector did not look up from the TV. He thumbed a number on his phone and watched the screen light his face.
"I love Amanda," he said, casual and flat. A small smirk cut his mouth. "She is better than you."
Salt-fine words. He added on like a ledger entry, "If it wasn't for my father forcing me into this marriage, I'd never call you my wife. I obey him."
The TV noise filled the room. Stock tickers scrolled. He seemed to think everything could be handled by numbers.
Selina stood very still. Her hands curled at her sides. Ember, the housemaid, moved past with a tray. Her face was pale. She kept her eyes on the glasses.
Selina had hoped for something from Hector. Not passion. Not romance. A sign of decency. A look that meant he saw her. He had shown none. He had not stood for them at the reception. He had not moved when her family was hurt.
A soft creak at the living room door. Amanda stepped in without knocking. She walked like she owned space. White dress. Bright hair. A smile that needed no permission.
When Amanda saw Selina she stopped. Her smile sharpened.
"Husband snatcher," Amanda said. "Prostitute."
The word hit cold. Ember's tray wobbled. Glass chimed.
Amanda stepped forward with the steady air of a woman who expects a stage. Her voice rose like a practiced speech.
"Your mother, Ella, ruined mine," she said. "She was part of that hostile takeover nine years ago. She destroyed my mother's business. Now Ella is gone. God punished her. No mercy for Ella. No mercy for the Vernetti dynasty. No mercy for your father. No mercy for you, Selina."
The room narrowed to the two of them. The tang of lemon polish mixed with Amanda's perfume. The city beyond the windows became a dull wash.
"You will not insult my family," Selina said. Her voice was low, edged. "Never come to my house again. Your time is over with him. Hector is mine. I will not tolerate this in my home."
Amanda laughed, thin and sharp. "Your matrimonial home? So funny." She stepped close and spat, "You…prostitute."
The servants pretended not to listen. Ember wiped a tray with quick, small motions. The penthouse had rules. The staff knew them.
Amanda lowered her voice and leaned in. Her breath ticked at Selina's ear like a promise.
"Do you know what made me happiest at the reception?" she breathed. "I hired the gang. I paid them. They scattered the room. They hurt your Vernetti people. That is where I found my happiness."
The confession landed like a stone. The room held it, heavy and raw.
Selina moved before she thought. Her hand struck Amanda's cheek. The slap rang on the marble. Amanda's head snapped. Lipstick smeared. The red mark stood like proof.
Amanda's eyes flared. She hit back. Hands grabbed. The two women clutched and pushed. Voices rose. The sound was sharp and ugly, broke like pottery.
Hector startled then. His phone thunked onto the couch. He rose and reached, but he did not strike. He only stepped in and pulled. Two maids rushed forward. Ember dropped her tray and shoved between them.
The fight was hot and small. It made the servants call for calm. A small house alarm lit on the wall. Motion sensors flashed but showed only a brief sweep at the terrace — nothing concrete.
"You will be arrested," Selina yelled, breath a blade. "I will tell my father. You will go to jail. You will rot."
Amanda smiled as if that were a joke. "Go on," she said. "You have nerve. You'll have your stories. No evidence. No proof. You'll be the one who looks mad."
Her voice was loud and sure. "We shall see, Selina."
Hector moved then. He stepped between them with a slow, careful hand. His face was a mask of tired annoyance. He pushed them apart and set a palm on Selina's shoulder. He didn't shout at Amanda. He didn't strike her.
Amanda wiped her cheek and leveled a look with Selina that had knives in it. "I will get back to you," she said. "I will deal with you."
She left in a flare of silk. The door closed behind her. Her footsteps faded.
Silence rolled back in like dust. The house hummed at its machinery. A clock clicked. A plant leaf tapped the window.
Hector stayed too close. He seemed calm, practiced. He wrapped an arm around Selina and drew her to the couch. The motion felt like a performance. He held her tight, like a man practicing affection.
"Sorry," he said. It was the same thin apology. He pressed his forehead to her temple and rubbed the tense knot at the base of her neck.
Selina felt the pressure deep in the muscles first. His hands were steady, not rough. The warmth of his palm spread across her shoulders. She felt loosen like someone uncoiling after a long hold. The surprise of that small care hit her odd and sudden.
Her mind flipped to Caleb. Caleb had massaged her and joked while he worked the knot out. He made a face and said nonsense just to make her laugh. The memory slid warm through her.
Hector's hands were not Caleb's. They were careful and a little awkward. He did not smile while he worked. He watched the window, the city lights like a scoreboard.
The motion calmed her. Her breath slowed. Heat pooled in her lids. The room softened.
He glanced at his phone. It buzzed. He ignored it.
The warmth pulled her toward sleep. Ember cleared a dropped napkin. The TV now showed a blank screen. The house breathed around them.
Selina let her head rest on his arm. The steady pressure of his hold and the rhythm of his fingers made her eyes heavy. The last thing she felt was the soft sound of his voice, a murmur low in the room.
When she woke in the dark, she thought: tonight I will finish this.