I scanned the whole hall and I noticed Julien Hart, my long term rival. He didn't move like a man trying to be seen. He didn't scan the room for approval or hover near power the way most people did. He stood comfortably at the edge of the gathering, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a glass he never drank from.
Watching.
Waiting.
Men like that were never harmless, which I knew.
The charity event was meant to be simple and predictable. Another night of polite smiles and carefully curated conversations meant to reassure investors and quiet rumors. My wife's presence had already achieved its purpose; proof of stability, of control. I should have been focused on that. Instead, my attention kept drifting back to her. She stood near the balcony doors, posture composed, expression neutral. She had learned quickly, too quickly. She smiled when spoken to, nodded when expected, and kept her opinions locked away where no one could use them against her. She was behaving exactly as required.
And yet.....
She looked isolated.
The realization pissed me off. I was about to cross the room when Julien moved. He didn't approach her directly. He stopped a few steps away, leaning casually against the railing as though she had simply happened to be there. "Well," he said lightly, "if escape is what you're planning, I'd recommend the service stairs. It's less dramatic." She was startled, then turned toward him.
Her smile, the real one, appeared before she could stop it. She hadn't smiled like that in my presence, ever before. I felt enraged
and I felt anger like a blade slipping between my ribs. "I wasn't planning an escape," she said softly. Julien tilted his head, studying her with open interest. It was neither hunger nor calculation, just recognition. "That's a shame," he replied. "You have the posture of someone who's memorized exits." She hesitated. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?" "An observation," he corrected. "They're usually more accurate."
Across the room, my grip tightened around the glass in my hand. What the hell was he doing with her? Julien extended his hand, not hurried or insistent.
"Julien Hart."
Her brows lifted slightly. She knew the name. Everyone did.
"Clara," she said after a beat, accepting the handshake. The wine glass in my hand shattered to pieces and blood started dripping from my hand. I didn't feel the pain, instead I was preoccupied with the name she gave. She didn't say "Mrs. Thompson". Guests looked at my side but I didn't feel their gazes. A bodyguard on standby came to me and wrapped a cloth around my bleeding hand. Clara didn't notice because she was in a deep conversation with Julien.
Julien noticed and something sharp flickered in his eyes before his smile returned, faintly amused. "Ah," he murmured. "So that's how it is."
My jaw clenched and I started toward them. I reached them just as Julien released her hand. "My wife," I said calmly, positioning myself beside her. Close enough to feel the heat of her body. " Are you enjoying the evening?"
Her breath caught. "Yes," she answered after a fraction of a second. "It's… enlightening."
Julien's smile widened. "I was just telling her she has excellent instincts," he said. "Rare in rooms like this."
"Instincts can be trained," I replied coolly. "Or dulled," Julien countered, unbothered.
Our gazes locked. "You seem very comfortable," I said. "With people?" Julien shrugged. "I find honesty makes things simpler." I felt her shift beside me.
Julien noticed. "You look tense," he said to her, ignoring me completely. "Does he always stand this close?"
Silence crashed between us. My hand landed at her lower back.
Claiming.
Her spine stiffened instantly. Julien's eyes dropped, not to my hand, but to her reaction. Then he looked back up at me.
Slowly and deliberately.
"Ah," he said softly. "So it's still control, then."
My blood went cold. "You should be careful," I said quietly. "Old grudges can cloud judgment." Julien laughed. "I don't hold grudges, Lucas."
He leaned closer, just enough to ensure only I could hear. "I remember exactly who you were before power taught you restraint." Her fingers twitched against her dress.
I tightened my grip without meaning to.
Clara inhaled sharply.
Julien's smile vanished.
That was the moment.
The precise second Julien Hart became a problem I could not ignore.
I excused us without asking. My hand remained firm at her back as I guided her away from Julien, through the murmuring crowd, past curious glances and forced smiles. I didn't stop until we reached the quieter wing of the estate where the lights were softer and the air heavier.
She pulled slightly away from me.
"Lucas," she said, voice controlled but strained, "you're hurting me."
I released her immediately.
The silence between us was sharp.
"You don't speak to him again," I said.
She looked up at me, eyes steady. "You don't get to decide who speaks to me." That waa the first time she didn't obey my words
The words landed harder than I expected.
"You're my wife," I replied.
Her laugh was soft. Bitter. "On paper." "Are you in love with him, Huuu...." I spat, my anger skyrocketing.
Something dark stirred in my chest.
Before she could respond, footsteps echoed behind us.
Julien.
He stopped a polite distance away, hands visible, expression unreadable. "Forgive the interruption," he said lightly. "But it seemed like the conversation ended… abruptly."
"I believe," I said coldly, "this is none of your concern."
Julien's gaze flicked briefly to her, then back to me. "That depends," he replied. "On whether you still believe people are property." Her breath hitched.
I felt it.
The memory surfaced unbidden; A boardroom. Raised voices. My father's hand slamming against polished wood.
Control is the only thing that keeps chaos in line.
Julien had been there that day.
You still think you can own outcomes, Lucas, he'd said then.
You can't.
"I didn't come here to reopen old wounds," Julien continued calmly. "But I won't pretend I don't recognize patterns."
I stepped closer to him. "You don't know anything about my marriage."
Julien met my gaze without flinching. "I know silence when I see it," he said. "And I know when a woman is surviving instead of living."
She stiffened beside me. I turned to her. "Go inside."
She didn't move. Julien noticed that too. "That's interesting," he murmured. "You give orders. She decides whether to obey."
Enough.
"You've said your piece," I snapped. "Leave."
Julien exhaled slowly, then nodded. "I will."
He turned to her instead of me. "It was a pleasure meeting you," he said gently. "If you ever need a conversation without conditions.."
My voice cut in like a blade. "She won't."
Julien smiled faintly.
"We'll see."
He walked away. I stood frozen long after he disappeared.
That night, I didn't sleep. I reviewed contracts. Emails. Market fluctuations. Anything that kept my mind occupied. It didn't work. All I could see was the way her shoulders had relaxed when Julien spoke to her. The way she'd smiled. I didn't like it not because it threatened me but because it revealed something I hadn't wanted to see.
I found her in the library past midnight.
She was curled into one of the chairs, a book open in her lap, though her eyes weren't moving across the page. "You should be resting," I said. She looked up. "So should you."
I crossed the room slowly.
"Julien Hart is not your friend."
She closed the book. "You don't know that."
"I know men like him," I said. "They exploit weakness."
Her gaze sharpened. "You mistake kindness for weakness," she replied.
The words struck deep. "I'm trying to protect you," I said.
She stood. "No," she said quietly. "You're trying to protect control."
Silence.
She stepped past me, stopping only long enough to say
"He saw me."
Then she left. I remained in the library, staring at the space she'd occupied.
Julien Hart had seen her.
And worse, He'd made her realize I hadn't.
That night, for the first time in years, I acknowledged a truth I couldn't suppress.
This wasn't strategy anymore.
This was jealousy and Julien Hart wasn't just a rival in business.
He was a threat to something I hadn't known I was losing.