The oak door closed with a soft 'click,' but to Elena, the sound was like a prison door being slammed shut. This time, however, she didn't know who was the prisoner. Was it her, or the man who had just left her?
She stood frozen in the middle of Ethan's study, her heart hammering so hard she could hear it in her ears. The shame of being caught burned hot on her cheeks, but that feeling was quickly swallowed by a much larger wave of confusion. She looked around the room—at the worn books, the random notes on the desk, the faint scent of coffee—all these were traces of a man she did not know.
With stiff steps, she exited the room, pulling the door firmly closed behind her. The grand, cold corridor of the mansion now felt different. If before it had felt like a museum, now it felt like a façade, a pretense hiding a complex truth behind one of its doors.
Back in her own room, Elena couldn't settle. She paced back and forth across the thick carpet, her mind racing, trying to assemble a puzzle whose pieces didn't fit together.
There were now three versions of Ethan Riels in her mind.
First, there was Ethan the Cold Husband. The man who had calmly and cruelly asserted his authority that morning, making Nathan look like a frightened child. The man who made deals and demanded terms.
Second, Ethan the Feared CEO. The man she didn't see, but whose influence she could feel. The man who made Nathan—the man she admired most—speak on the phone with a tone of hesitation and fear. The man who clearly had the power to control the world around him.
And third, the man whose traces she had just found. Ethan the Hidden Artist. The man who could remember a little girl's laughter from a dozen years ago and immortalize it with pencil strokes so tender and full of feeling. The man whose reaction to his secret being exposed wasn't anger, but a deep and quiet pain.
How could these three men be the same person? Her mind couldn't accept it. A man couldn't possibly be as cold as ice and as warm as fire at the same time.
That night, Elena couldn't sleep. She lay in her vast, empty bed, staring at the dark ceiling. She replayed every event since her wedding. The humiliation she had dealt him on the dance floor. The confrontation at the breakfast table—was it really just jealousy, or a clumsy attempt to create a space for just the two of them? And then Ethan's reaction in the study... "There are some things that are not part of our agreement, Elena. The secrets in this book... are one of them."
He wasn't angry that she had violated his privacy. He was hurt that she had seen his weakness.
An uncomfortable realization began to creep into Elena's mind. Her plan had always been so simple: endure this marriage, guard her heart for Nathan, and wait for the right moment to be free. She had always considered Ethan an obstacle, a flat and predictable variable.
She was wrong. So very wrong.
Ethan wasn't a flat obstacle. He was a complex and cryptic labyrinth. And Nathan... Nathan was not the guaranteed escape route she thought he was.
Elena turned over, hugging a pillow tightly. Freedom wouldn't come from ignoring her husband. Freedom, or at the very least sanity, would only come if she could understand him. She had to know who the man sleeping across the hall truly was. She had to solve the impossible puzzle named Ethan Riels.
Her motivation was no longer love for Nathan or the desire to run. For the first time, her motivation was Ethan himself.