Natalie's POV
I woke up alone in my room and remembered: I was married.
Three days had passed since the Hamptons dinner. Three days of living with Adrian like we were roommates instead of husband and wife.
I barely saw him.
Mornings, he left before I woke up—just an empty coffee cup in the sink and the faint smell of his cologne lingering in the hallway. Evenings, he came home after ten and went straight to his office. I'd hear him on conference calls through the closed door, his voice sharp and commanding.
We were married on paper only.
I unpacked the last of my boxes, arranging my books on the shelf. The guest room—my room—was starting to feel less like a hotel and more like a prison. Beautiful cage, golden bars, but still a cage.
You need anything?
I jumped. Adrian stood in my doorway, tie loosened, looking exhausted.
You're home early, I said. It was only nine.
It's not early. It's late. He leaned against the doorframe. I just wanted to check if you're settling in okay.
Fine. Everything's fine.
Awkward silence stretched between us.
Well. Goodnight then. He turned to leave.
Adrian, wait. I don't know what made me stop him. Do we have to live like this? Like strangers?
We are strangers, Natalie.
We're married.
Legally. Not actually. But something flickered in his eyes, loneliness, maybe. This is what we agreed to. Distance. Boundaries. No complications.
And you're happy with that?
He was quiet for a long moment. Happiness wasn't in the contract.
Then he left, closing his bedroom door down the hall.
I stood there feeling more alone than when I'd lived by myself.
Days blurred together.
I threw myself into rebuilding my event planning business. Calls to old clients. Pitching new proposals. Trying to repair the damage from weeks of neglecting work while drowning in debt.
Sophie called every day, still suspicious about my sudden marriage. I dodged her questions with lies that got easier each time.
Mom called once. The conversation lasted three minutes, cold, hurt, distant. She still hadn't forgiven me for the secret wedding.
And Adrian? I saw him maybe an hour a day, always in passing.
Morning, he'd say, grabbing coffee.
Morning, I'd reply.
That was it. That was our marriage.
But I noticed things.
The way he always made extra coffee, leaving a full pot for me. How he'd stocked the fridge with my favorite yogurt even though I'd only mentioned it once. The book I'd been looking for that suddenly appeared on the coffee table with a bookmark at chapter one.
Small gestures that meant nothing. Or everything. I couldn't tell.
And sometimes, when he thought I wasn't looking—I'd catch him watching me. His ice-blue eyes unreadable, expression carefully blank. Then he'd look away quickly, like he'd been caught doing something wrong.
Those moments made my heart beat faster.
I hated that. Hated that my body reacted to a man who saw me as a business transaction.
This was temporary. Just business. I couldn't let myself feel anything real.
One week after the wedding, I was working at the dining table when Adrian came home at a reasonable hour for once, seven PM.
You're home, I said, surprised.
I live here. He set down his briefcase. Have you eaten?
Not yet.
Me neither. Want to order something?
It was the first normal thing he'd suggested since we got married.
Sure. Okay.
We ordered Thai food and ate at opposite ends of the table, the distance between us feeling like miles.
How's the business? Adrian asked.
Slow. I lost a lot of clients during... everything. Word spreads fast that someone's unreliable.
What do you need?
What do you mean?
To rebuild. Do you need capital? Connections? I can make calls.
I stared at him. Why would you do that?
Because you're my wife. Your success reflects on me.
Right. Always about appearances. About the Blackwell name.
I'll manage on my own, I said, pride making me stubborn.
That's not necessary
I don't need you to fix my life, Adrian. I just need you to stay out of it.
Hurt flashed across his face before the cold mask slammed back down. Fine. Handle it yourself.
He left the table, disappeared into his office, and slammed the door.
I sat there feeling guilty and angry and confused.
Why did I care if I hurt his feelings? This was fake. All of it was fake.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
At 2 AM, I gave up and went to the kitchen for water. The penthouse was dark except for a light under Adrian's office door.
Still working. Always working.
I padded down the hall, pressed my ear to the door. Silence. Maybe he'd fallen asleep at his desk.
I knocked softly. Adrian?
No answer.
I opened the door carefully.
He was slumped over his desk, one hand still gripping a pen, papers scattered everywhere. Asleep sitting up, probably exhausted from another eighteen-hour day.
Something in my chest tightened.
He looked different when he slept. Younger. Less controlled. The harsh lines around his mouth softened. His dark hair fell across his forehead messily.
He looked almost... human.
I grabbed a blanket from the couch and draped it over his shoulders carefully, trying not to wake him.
Natalie? His voice was rough with sleep.
I froze. Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you.
He blinked at me, disoriented. What time is it?
Two AM. You fell asleep working.
I do that a lot. He rubbed his eyes. Why are you up?
Couldn't sleep.
We looked at each other in the dim office light. For once, Adrian's walls were down. He looked tired and lonely and achingly human.
Do you ever sleep? I asked softly.
Not much. Insomnia. He gestured to the papers. Easier to work than lie awake thinking.
Thinking about what?
Everything I'm doing wrong. Everything I can't control. His eyes met mine. Everything I've ruined.
The vulnerability in his voice surprised me.
You haven't ruined anything, I said.
Haven't I? I bought a wife because I couldn't function like a normal person. I forced you into my family's nightmare. I He stopped himself. Never mind. You should go back to bed.
So should you.
I will. Soon.
But we both knew he wouldn't. He'd sit here working until dawn, running from whatever demons haunted him.
I left him there and went back to my room.
But sleep didn't come. I kept seeing the look in his eyes—lost, lonely, desperate for something he didn't know how to ask for.
This man was my husband. And I knew almost nothing about him.
The next morning, Adrian was gone before I woke up as usual.
But there was a note on the kitchen counter in his sharp handwriting:
Thank you for the blanket. And for caring enough to check on me. – A
I held the note, something warm and dangerous blooming in my chest.
This was bad. I was starting to see him as more than a contract. More than a business arrangement.
I was starting to see Adrian Blackwell as a person.
And that was the most dangerous thing I could do.
My phone buzzed. Text from an unknown number.
How's married life, Natalie? You and Adrian look so happy together. Too bad it's all fake. I wonder how much the tabloids would pay for proof? Sleep tight. – V
My blood went cold.
Vanessa. Still watching. Still threatening.
But this time, she mentioned proof.
What proof could she possibly have?
I was about to text Adrian when another message appeared. This one included a photo.
My hands started shaking.
The photo was from the courthouse. Adrian and me signing our marriage certificate. But it wasn't just any photo, it was zoomed in on the papers we were signing.
On the contract that Daniel had accidentally left visible on the table.
The contract that said CONTRACTUAL MARRIAGE AGREEMENT in bold letters at the top.
Oops. Looks like someone was careless at your wedding. This photo is very... interesting. Wonder what Eleanor Blackwell would pay for it? Or maybe I should just send it to the New York Times? Decisions, decisions. – V
The room spun.
Vanessa had photographic evidence that our marriage was a contract. Evidence that could destroy everything—Adrian's inheritance, my payment, both our reputations.
She could ruin us with one email.
I called Adrian immediately. He answered on the first ring.
Natalie? What's wrong?
Vanessa has proof. She has a photo from the courthouse showing the contract. Adrian, she has evidence that our marriage is fake.
Silence. Then: Forward me the message. Don't respond to her. Don't do anything. I'm coming home now.
What are we going to do?
Whatever it takes to stop her. His voice turned dangerous. She wants to play games? Fine. But she's not destroying what we've built.
What we've built? Adrian, this is fake
Not anymore it's not. He hung up.
I stared at my phone, heart racing.
Not anymore?
What did that mean?
Twenty minutes later, Adrian burst through the door, Daniel right behind him.
Show me the photo, Adrian demanded.
I pulled it up. Daniel examined it closely, face grim.
This is bad, Daniel said. The contract header is clearly visible. Any lawyer would recognize what this is.
Can we claim it's photoshopped? I asked desperately.
Vanessa will have the original. And metadata to prove when and where it was taken. Daniel set down his phone. If she releases this, the story hits every news outlet by tomorrow. 'Billionaire CEO Fakes Marriage for Inheritance.' It destroys both of you.
So what do we do? My voice shook.
Adrian's jaw clenched. We give her what she wants.
What does she want?
He looked at me, eyes hard and determined. Me. She wants me back. Or she wants revenge for me leaving her. Either way, this is about me, not you.
So you're going to what? Apologize? Beg her not to release the photo?
No. He pulled out his phone. I'm going to meet with her. Tonight. And I'm going to end this.
That's a terrible idea—
It's the only idea. He was already texting. She wants a reaction. I'll give her one. Face to face, where she can't hide behind anonymous messages.
Adrian, she's unstable. You said so yourself
Which is why you're not coming. He looked at Daniel. I need you to prepare legal countermeasures. Harassment charges, stalking documentation, everything we can use as leverage.
On it, Daniel said.
My phone buzzed. Another text from Vanessa.
Tell Adrian I'll be waiting at our old place. 8 PM. Come alone, or the photo goes public at midnight. – V
She knew you'd agree to meet, I said slowly. She planned this.
Adrian read the message, face unreadable. Of course she did. Vanessa always plans everything.
Then don't go. It's a trap.
Probably. But I don't have a choice. He headed for his bedroom. I'm going. End of discussion.
I followed him. Adrian, listen to me
He spun around. No, you listen. This is my fault. My ex, my family, my messed up life that dragged you into this nightmare. I will fix it. You just stay here and stay safe.
We're supposed to be partners
We're supposed to be a lot of things we're not! His control finally cracked. We're supposed to be strangers who maintain professional distance. But I can't stop thinking about you. We're supposed to be temporary. But the thought of you leaving in twelve months makes me— He stopped, running his hands through his hair. This was supposed to be simple. And it's not. Nothing about this is simple anymore.
The confession hung between us, raw and real.
What are you saying? I whispered.
I'm saying I'm going to that meeting. I'm going to protect you. And when I get back, we need to talk. Really talk. About what this is and what it's becoming. He grabbed his coat. Lock the door behind me. Don't let anyone in.
Adrian—
But he was already gone.
I stood in the empty penthouse, heart racing, replaying his words.
I can't stop thinking about you.
Nothing about this is simple anymore.
What did that mean? Was Adrian developing real feelings? Or was he just desperate to protect the arrangement?
My phone buzzed again.
But this time, it wasn't Vanessa.
It was a video message from an unknown number. I opened it with shaking hands.
The video showed Adrian and Vanessa from years ago—at a restaurant, laughing, his arm around her shoulders. They looked happy. In love.
Then the video cut to recent footage. Adrian leaving the penthouse this morning. The timestamp: TODAY.
Text appeared over the video: He's always been mine. You're just temporary. Watch what happens when real love comes back. – V
The video ended.
And I realized with sinking horror: Vanessa wasn't just threatening to expose our fake marriage.
She was planning to take Adrian back.
And after seeing how happy they looked together, I wondered if maybe Adrian wanted that too.