Ethan awoke before the first light of dawn, a habit forged from years of discipline leading a business empire. But this morning felt different. The mansion, which usually felt empty, now held another pulse of life. Across the hall, in the grand master bedroom, his wife was sleeping.
His wife. The word still felt like a strange echo in his mind.
He recalled last night's events with sharp precision. The fear in Elena's eyes when he had entered the room had been so real, so piercing. She had thought he would act like a monster, a businessman coming to collect on the asset he had just acquired. A small, darker part of him was perhaps insulted that she thought so little of him, but the larger part—the part that had loved her in silence for over a decade—ached.
He could still see the confusion on Elena's face when he had stated his term.
"My first term," he had said to the rigid woman standing before him last night, "is that every morning, at seven o'clock sharp, you will have breakfast with me in the dining room. No phones, no laptops, no distractions. Just you and me. That's all."
Elena had only stared at him, speechless, her beautiful eyes widening in disbelief.
"Your room is across the hall," Ethan had continued then, gesturing to a door that connected to another, equally large room. "I will never touch you, Elena. Not until you ask me to yourself."
That was his strategy. Not with force, not with the luxury that had always failed before. He would win Elena over with patience and consistency. He would create a forced routine, a daily ritual where she would have to see him, have to face him without Nathan's shadow falling between them. He believed that if he could just get her to truly see him, maybe one day she would find something worth loving.
At five minutes to seven, Ethan was already seated at the head of the magnificent dining room table. The long mahogany table could seat twenty, but this morning it was set for only two—at opposite ends, like two monarchs from warring kingdoms. A cup of black coffee steamed before him. He waited, his heart pounding with an anticipation that felt ridiculous for a man like him. Would Elena honor their deal?
At precisely seven o'clock, he heard light footsteps. Elena appeared in the doorway. Without the heavy makeup and wedding gown, she looked younger and more fragile dressed in cream-colored silk pajamas. There was resistance in every one of her movements, but she had come. That was enough for now. A small flicker of hope ignited in Ethan's chest.
"Good morning," Ethan greeted, his voice neutral.
Elena gave him only a brief nod in reply and sat in the chair farthest from him. An awkward silence settled over them.
"I've asked the chef to make..." Ethan's sentence trailed off.
His attention was diverted by the sound of soft laughter from the direction of the glass terrace connected to the dining room. A laugh he knew all too well.
Before Ethan could process it, Nathan walked in from the terrace door, a bright smile still lingering on his face. He was wearing a casual t-shirt and shorts, a laptop in his hand, as if he were a regular presence here every morning.
"Morning, bro! Morning, Elena," Nathan greeted cheerfully. He walked over to Elena's side—far too close, Ethan thought—and pointed to something on the laptop screen. "Look, the arrangement from last night is almost done. It sounds amazing."
Elena leaned in, the first genuine smile Ethan had seen on her face since yesterday gracing her lips. "Really? Let me hear it."
The two of them were lost in their own world. Soft laughter, heads close together, an intimacy that was so easy and natural. They looked like the real couple. And Ethan, at the end of the same table, in his own home, on the first day of his marriage, was merely a stranger interrupting their sacred ritual.
The warm atmosphere instantly froze as they both became aware of Ethan's silence and turned to look at him. Nathan looked awkward, his smile vanishing. Elena, in contrast, lifted her chin with a defiant gaze, as if to say, 'What are you going to do about it?'
Ethan placed his coffee cup down on its saucer very slowly, without making a sound. His calm eyes had now turned into an ice storm. He stared straight ahead, not at Elena, but at his brother.
In a voice that was very quiet yet filled with a deadly pressure, he said, "Good morning, Nathan. I wasn't aware you lived here now."