"I remember what tonight meant to you."
"And you didn't call to tell me you had a change of heart?"
"Why should I have called?" he asked, his voice edged with irritation at her perceived tantrum.
"Because I was hoping for us, Zane! That after tonight… you might start treating me with affection because I'm carrying your child. The biggest blessing you could ask for," she replied inwardly, biting her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood to mask the ache cutting through her core.
Selina nodded once, absorbing the weight of it all when she saw not even the slightest hint of remorse in his unreadable amber eyes. Without another word, she turned and made her way toward the staircase, her steps echoing heavily. Yet, the sight of her retreating figure burned in the corner of his gaze, unbidden.
His expression hardened as he fought to maintain his usual cold composure, resisting the urge to look back at her.
"Please, Zane," Maura murmured, clutching his arm. "Don't send me away because of her. You know I can't stay alone when I'm this vulnerable. What if something happens?"
Zane gently loosened her grip. "Nothing will happen."
"But will I even be safe here? Selina is upset and jealous. What if she attacks me?" Maura persisted, her tone fragile on the surface but poisoned with the intent to turn Zane against his wife. "And if she becomes a threat to me... won't you kick her out?"
That last line made Zane pull Maura's hand from his arm without answering her question.
Inside the walk-in closet, Selina stood motionless. Her fingers white-knuckled the hem of her lingerie, trembling as she prayed this was a nightmare she could wake from. But the cold air offered no comfort, only whispering the reality she refused to embrace: she was a ghost in his heart, a woman with no permanent place in her husband's life. Not even a temporary one.
Creak.
The door pushed open, snapping Selina out of her thoughts. As heavy, rhythmic footsteps approached, she refused to turn toward the familiar figure. Instead, she frantically wiped stray tears with the back of her hand, pretending to be occupied with the wardrobe until his shadow swallowed hers.
As she reached for the silk lingerie's jacket, a firm hand pressed against the wardrobe, pinning her. She was trapped between the unyielding closet and the heat of his body.
The strong scent of alcohol reeking from him filled her senses, and a raw nausea hit her throat. She forced it down; she couldn't afford to expose the little life inside her yet, not when uncertainty was crushing her.
"What are you doing?" Zane's voice was a low, glacial murmur. His eyes dropped to the back of her hair, gathered in a messy bun. He wanted to look at her, though he sensed she was avoiding his gaze.
"My presence might make this home inconvenient for you both," Selina whispered, her gaze fixed on the grain of the wood. "Maybe I should move out. That way, you won't be bothered."
Zane's brows knitted with a flicker of something dangerous. He leaned in, and Selina's body shuddered as the warmth of his breath brushed her neck.
"It won't bother me. Though, leaving the mansion—or this marriage—is not an option." His words sent a chilly seal of finality through every fiber of her being.
"I know I mean nothing to you, but…" Her lips trembled, her pulse tightening with every word. "You shouldn't expect me to welcome her into our home. It's not something I can bear."
"Are you jealous, woman?" His tone shifted to a sharp edge of surprise, his eyes narrowing as if her hurt were a mere curiosity.
The fragile urge to argue died in her throat. She walked past him toward the bed, her steps hollow. The way she moved away hit Zane hard; his expression darkened as he stormed after her. As she attempted to climb onto the mattress, his hand clamped around her arm and pulled her back, her spine colliding with his broad chest.
"Don't walk out on me," he hissed.
"What else do you want to hear from me?" Her voice was tight. Still, her body shivered intensely this time under his touch as his grip around her waist grew tighter—possessive rather than suffocating. Despite herself, she felt a treacherous craving for his touch.
Zane tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his breath hot against her neck as he inhaled her scent with his eyes closed. No matter how he tried to crush his desire for her, he couldn't deny she was intoxicating.
His jaw tightened as a dark, burning desire overtook his irritation.
"I want you. Strip, Little Bunny" he murmured.
The nickname made Selina's pulse skip a beat nervously. She was aware that tonight would be a loveless encounter—not one of tenderness or genuine desire, but the heavy weight of possession. This time, the feeling threatened to crumble her own longing for him.
"I'm not in the mood," she denied wearily, her thoughts scrambling for an escape.
Zane froze, his features hardening in confusion but didn't let go. "You haven't said no to me before. Perhaps you want me to get you in the mood?"
"Tomorrow, I'll cook your favorite meal." she said, changing the subject to avoid intimacy. "I'd like us to have breakfast together. At least once. I have something to share with you."
"Not tomorrow," Zane declined, his voice returning to a clinical tone as he pulled away.
Selina took a desperate step toward him. "Is it so urgent? It's just for a moment. It won't take much of your time."
Zane reached for his necktie, loosening it as the heat in the room rose. He couldn't tell if it was the weather or the tension between them.
"I need to take Maura to the hospital. Her condition isn't improving. You should eat without me."
That reply. It was his constant refrain—a rejection wrapped in a delay. It left her to starve on the crumbs of a hope that never came, because he always chose Maura over her.
Her finger instinctively brushed the smooth surface of the diamond wedding ring on her left hand. It felt empty.
Selina swallowed the familiar sting, her voice trembling. "Bu-but Z-Zane…"
"Zane?" he echoed, his tone calm yet irritated. "When did we become close enough to dispense with formalities? Where are your manners, woman?"
Selina spun around to face him, her eyes burning with a raw, pulsing ache. "I'm your wife, Zane! Whether you want this to be real or not!" The frustration finally shattered the composure in her voice.
"My wife?" he repeated, tilting his head. A short, ridiculing snort escaped him. "I made it clear that I would grant you vanity and status—nothing else. Do not burden me with your expectations."
Selina dipped her head. He had been honest from the start, but she had surrendered everything, foolishly believing that unwavering devotion would eventually soften him.
She took a shaky breath, finally asking the question that gnawed at her daily. "Do I deserve to be neglected this way, even in a marriage of convenience? Why can't you love me? Or at least show me a bit of attention? Is it because I'm not pretty enough? Am I not like the women in your circle? Like Maura?"
She wondered if her plain appearance or low status fueled his disdain. She had spent years hiding her true beauty behind dull makeup and a drab facade, using the disguise as a shield.
For a split second, Zane's stoic expression faltered at the sight of the raw hurt in her eyes. But he hardened his heart like unbreakable steel before she could catch a glimpse of it.
"Don't be sensitive, Selina," he muttered dismissively, looking away. "This is the reality of our marriage. You have no choice but to accept it."
A soft, sad smile touched her lips as she closed the gap between them. Zane was untying his necktie, his movements precise and calculating, yet his eyes never left her. Selina stopped inches from him, her breath hitching. She reached out, her fingers trembling against the silk of his tie as if it could bridge the distance between them.