Grace sat by the window on the seventh night of her marriage, watching the city lights blur through tears she didn't remember crying.
One week. Seven days. One hundred sixty-eight hours of existing in the same penthouse as a man who'd looked through her like glass. The Hamptons gala had been worse than the silence. The gala had shown her exactly what Sebastian was capable of. The gala had shown her that his coldness wasn't indifference. It was deliberate.
She hadn't seen him for more than fifteen minutes all week.
On Saturday, after the gala, she'd come back to the penthouse to find a note: "Had to return to the city for business. Stay through Sunday if you'd like. Enjoy the house. —S"
He'd driven her there and driven away without her.
When she'd finally returned to the penthouse on Sunday evening, he was already gone. A business trip, Lauren said in a text. Back by Wednesday.
Wednesday had come and gone.
So had Thursday and Friday.
Grace had spent the week alone in a space that was becoming increasingly unbearable. The penthouse that had felt beautiful and cold now just felt dead. Every room was a reminder that she was living in someone else's mausoleum. Every silence was a confirmation that she was invisible.
Her phone rang at 9 PM.
Lily.
Grace stared at the caller ID, trying to summon the energy to lie convincingly. She needed to sound fine. She needed to sound like a woman whose marriage was working out. She needed to sound like someone who'd made a reasonable choice.
She answered.
"Hey," Lily said, and her voice was warm and real and everything the penthouse wasn't. "How's married life? Is he treating you okay?"
Grace forced brightness into her voice, the same brightness she'd learned to fake for her father. "Fine. Sebastian's really busy with work. But that's good, I guess. I have space to settle in."
"Grace." Lily's tone changed. "Don't do that. Don't pretend with me."
Grace's throat tightened. "Do what?"
"Lie. I can hear it in your voice. You're miserable. Tell me the truth."
For a moment, Grace considered hanging up. She considered continuing the performance. But Lily was the only person who'd ever asked her to be honest, and the weight of a week's worth of silence finally broke something inside her.
"He doesn't see me," Grace whispered. "I'm in his home, I'm his wife legally, and he doesn't see me."
"Oh, Grace." Lily's voice broke with sympathy. "Come to California. I mean it. Leave tonight. Pack a bag. I'll wire you money for a flight."
"I can't," Grace said. "The contract—"
"Screw the contract. You're his wife, not his prisoner."
But that's exactly what Grace was. His wife was the prison. The contract was the lock. And there was no key that would get her out before three hundred fifty-eight days had passed.
"I have nowhere to go," Grace said quietly. It was the truth she'd been avoiding since the moment she signed her name. "If I leave, I don't get the money. If I don't get the money, I can't survive on my own. I'd just end up depending on you, and then I'd be a burden to the only person who's ever tried to help me."
"You're not a burden—"
"Everyone gets tired of taking care of me," Grace interrupted. "Eventually. It's just a matter of time."
After Lily hung up, Grace sat in the dark.
She thought about Marcus. Marcus had betrayed her, but at least he'd seen her. He'd known her well enough to know exactly which words would hurt most. He'd paid attention to her likes and dislikes and fears, even if it was only so he could use them against her.
Sebastian didn't even know she existed.
Marcus had broken her heart.
Sebastian was breaking her soul.
Grace pulled out the contract from where she'd hidden it in her nightstand. She flipped to the termination clause. One year of marriage. Three hundred sixty-five days. Upon completion, five hundred thousand dollars and a mutual dissolution of the arrangement.
She counted the days on her fingers. Three hundred fifty-eight days left.
She could survive three hundred fifty-eight days of silence. She could survive three hundred fifty-eight days of invisibility. She could survive three hundred fifty-eight days of being a ghost in her own marriage because the alternative was admitting that she had nowhere else to go.
Grace walked to the mirror in her bathroom and stared at her reflection.
"I'm so lonely," she whispered to the girl looking back at her.
The girl didn't respond. The girl just looked sad.
Grace returned to the window and sat until midnight. She watched the city below her, all those lights in all those buildings filled with people who probably mattered to someone. People who had families. Friends. Connections. She had none of those things anymore. She'd traded them for a contract and the promise of money that suddenly felt like the loneliest thing in the world.
At 1 AM, the elevator opened.
Sebastian.
Grace's heart lifted before she could stop it. Maybe he'd come back early. Maybe he'd missed her. Maybe he'd realized that his wife existed and mattered and deserved to be seen.
She heard him move through the penthouse. Heard him in the kitchen. Heard him in his office.
She waited for him to find her by the window.
He didn't.
He just turned on his office light and closed the door.
Grace heard the soft sound of him settling in. Probably hours of work waiting for him. Probably emails and calls and business deals more important than the fact that his wife was sitting alone in the dark, wondering why she was so easy to forget.
She turned back to the window and let the city lights blur again.
Tomorrow would be day eight. Then day nine. Then day ten. She would count them out one by one until she reached day three hundred sixty-five and could finally reclaim her life.
But as she sat there, Grace realized something that made her chest tight. Even when the year was over, she would still be this person. The kind of person who was so easy to abandon. The kind of person who was so easy to forget. The kind of person who'd never learned to fight for herself because nobody had ever been worth the fight.
Maybe three hundred fifty-eight days wasn't enough time to change that.
Maybe she was broken in a way that couldn't be fixed.
Her phone buzzed. A text from Lauren: "Mr. Sterling will be back at the penthouse tomorrow evening. There's a business dinner on Saturday. You'll need to attend. I'll send the details."
Grace looked at the message and understood that this was her life now. Waiting for a man who didn't want her. Attending events where she'd pretend to be someone he'd chosen. Existing in a beautiful, expensive prison.
She should have run when Lily asked her to.
She should have left when she had the chance.
But Grace had never been good at running. She'd only ever been good at staying. Staying quiet. Staying small. Staying in love with people who didn't love her back.
So she texted back: "Confirmed."
And she sat by the window and counted down the days.
Three hundred fifty-eight days until freedom.
Three hundred fifty-eight days until she could finally have her own life back.
Three hundred fifty-eight days of being invisible in her husband's home.
She could do this.
She had to.
Because the only thing worse than being alone in a penthouse with a man who didn't see her was admitting that she'd never learned to see herself.