Chapter 4 Five

Four years ago

The courthouse was silent.

No music. No vows. No family.

Just legal documents and a tired clerk behind bulletproof glass.

"You may kiss the bride," the clerk said.

But he didn't.

Alexander slid the ring onto my finger like it was a formality. A business agreement sealed with metal and silence.

I remember how cold it felt-like I didn't belong there. Like I didn't.

There were no pictures. No reception. No flowers or champagne. Just a takeout bag on the passenger seat as we drove back to his penthouse in silence.

That night, I cooked dinner.

He poured whiskey.

"You should eat," I said, placing a plate on the counter. "You haven't eaten all day."

"I'm not hungry," he muttered.

"You need something in your stomach."

He looked up at me, eyes bloodshot from the boardroom war he'd fought that morning. "Stop acting like my wife."

I froze.

"I am your wife," I said, my voice small.

"No," he said. "You're a name on a contract. That's all."

He walked out.

I cried in the bathroom that night, with the door locked and the water running so no one would hear.

I didn't realize that I was already pregnant.

Present Day

I wake to the sound of my phone vibrating on the bed.

I answer without looking. "Hello?"

A calm voice on the other end. "Ms. Grey? This is Mercy Memorial Hospital. Your son's oxygen levels dropped during the night. We've stabilized him, but we'll need another dose of the imported medication within forty-eight hours."

I sit up, heart pounding. "Is he-"

"He's stable. But we can't delay this round."

"I'll bring the money," I whisper.

The call cuts.

I sit, holding the pillow tight and trying to stop my hands from shaking.

Thirty days. Just thirty days, and I'll have enough to cover the treatments. To move him to a better hospital. To breathe again.

But if Alexander finds out-

If he learns about John before I'm ready-

This entire arrangement will crumble.

Later that day, they called me back to Alex's office.

Something about the room feels different this time.

Tense. Measured. Like he's building toward something.

"There's a gala next Friday," he says, flipping through paperwork. "Charity event. Black tie. We'll attend as husband and wife."

I nod. "Okay."

"You'll wear the white dress."

I blink. "The same one?"

"The same one," he says, eyes on me now.

"Why?"

"Because the public needs to believe the marriage never ended."

I pause. "And you?"

He looks up. "What?"

"Do you believe it?"

He didn't reply. Instead, he walks toward me. I couldn't understand the look on his face.

When he stops in front of me, he takes my left hand and touches his finger over the ring.

"You never took it off," he murmurs.

"That's not true."

"It was for me," he says. "That day. At the courthouse. You thought it meant something."

"It did."

He looks up, eyes suddenly vulnerable. "Then why did you leave?"

I pull my hand away. "Because I was drowning. Because I loved you too much and you loved me too little."

"That's not true," he says quietly.

"Isn't it?"

He closes the distance again, his voice a whisper now. "You were mine the day you said yes."

I shake my head.

"You were mine the day you left."

"Stop-"

"And you're still mine now."

His lips brush my cheek. Not a kiss. A memory.

I pull back.

"No, Alex. I'm not yours. Not anymore."

He straightens. Something is burning behind his eyes-but he nods.

"For now."

That night, I packed a small overnight bag.

Not to run. Not this time.

Just to breathe.

But when I open the side drawer to get my passport, a photo slips out.

A copy of that photo.

The one from the clinic.

And scrawled on the back in bold ink:

"Who were you protecting?"

My fingers go numb.

Because I know-he's getting closer.

And when he finds out the truth...

Our lie won't survive it.