Chapter 2

The weekly meeting at the architectural firm where I interned was always a drag. I sat there, feigning interest as senior partners droned on about zoning laws and budget overruns.

After the meeting, a new colleague, a junior architect named Ethan, approached me.

"Hey, Elara. That was brutal, huh?" he said with a friendly smile.

I gave a polite, noncommittal nod. "They can be a bit dry."

He fell into step with me as I walked back to my cubicle. "I was thinking of grabbing a coffee. Want to join?"

"I have a lot of work to do," I said, trying to brush him off gently.

He was persistent, continuing to chat as I tried to focus on my screen. His presence was a mild, buzzing annoyance.

Just then, Caleb and Chloe appeared at the entrance to my cubicle block. They weren' t supposed to be in this part of the building.

"There you are," Chloe said, her voice sharp and carrying across the open-plan office. "We need to talk." She pointed a finger at me. "I want everyone to know what kind of person you really are. A homewrecker who sleeps her way to the top."

The accusation was so absurd it was almost laughable, but the venom in her tone made my stomach clench.

I stood up, my voice low and steady. "Chloe, this is a professional environment. I suggest you leave."

She just laughed. "Or what? You' ll have your rich husband sue me? I' m not scared of you."

Ethan stepped forward. "Hey, you can' t talk to her like that. Who do you think you are?"

"I' m her worst nightmare," Chloe spat back, before turning her attention back to me. "You think you' ve won, but you haven' t."

I looked at her, at the desperate anger in her eyes, and felt a strange sense of pity. I had no interest in her games. I sat back down and turned to my computer, effectively dismissing her.

My indifference only made her angrier. She stormed off, dragging a reluctant Caleb with her.

"Are you okay?" Ethan asked, his face etched with concern.

"I' m fine," I said, and I meant it. "People like that feed on drama. The best thing you can do is starve them."

My past had taught me that. When my family lost everything, I learned to build walls, to be resilient. Words couldn' t break me anymore.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of drafting and research. Ethan, to his credit, kept a respectful distance, though he occasionally glanced over with a worried expression.

As I was packing up, another colleague, a bubbly woman from the marketing department named Sarah, bounced over to my desk.

"A few of us are going out for drinks. You have to come! You' re always so serious."

I tried to decline, but her friendly persistence was hard to resist. "Okay, just for one."

At the bar, my new colleagues were full of questions.

"So, Elara, you' re so mysterious. What' s your story?" Sarah asked.

I took a sip of my club soda. "Not much of a story. I just got married."

A collective gasp went around the table.

"Married? To who? Do we know him?"

"His name is Julian Sterling," I said, keeping my voice casual.

Their eyes widened. They were all New Yorkers; they knew the name.

"You' re married to the Julian Sterling? The tech recluse?"

"The one and only." I tried to steer the conversation away, but their curiosity was insatiable. I couldn' t answer their questions about how we met or what he was really like, because I barely knew myself.

They offered me a ride home, but I declined. "I like taking the subway. It helps me decompress."

They insisted, a friendly argument that ended with me reluctantly getting into Sarah' s car.

When we pulled up to the address of Julian' s loft, their jaws dropped.

"You live here?" Ethan asked, staring up at the sleek, modern building. "And you take the subway?"

The discrepancy between my lifestyle and my habits was not lost on them.

"It' s my husband' s place," I explained vaguely. "He' s in tech investment."

"The Sterling family doesn' t just invest," Sarah said, her voice full of awe. "They own half of the tech sector. That' s some serious power."

I said my goodbyes and went inside. The loft was dark and silent. I assumed Julian wasn' t home. I switched on a lamp, the soft light pushing back the shadows.

From the darkness of his office, Julian watched me. He' d been home the whole time, stewing in his own dark thoughts. The sound of a car pulling up, the cheerful voices of my colleagues, had grated on his nerves. He was annoyed that I was home, annoyed that I was bringing the outside world into his sanctuary. His displeasure was a cold, heavy presence in the room, but I was completely unaware of it.