Chapter5
1022 Words
Liana had returned from a solo coffee run, hoping to avoid his cold stares and loaded silences after the wedding chaos. She didn't want to face the weight of Ella’s words or Fred Bennett's icy rejection. But stepping through the door, she immediately sensed the shift.
He was home.
Adrian’s suit jacket hung from the kitchen stool. His tie lay draped over a chair. And then
"Did you enjoy your walk?" His voice cut through the silence.
She turned.
He was leaning against the glass window, sleeves rolled up, two buttons undone, his jaw sharp.
“I needed air,” she said, setting the coffee cup on the marble counter.
He didn’t reply. His eyes tracked her movements like he was trying to decide something.
“You left without saying anything,” he finally said.
“Since when do we announce every breath we take?” she fired back.
A pause.
“You said you wanted real.”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You said you wanted something real, not staged. So here it is. Real. Raw. You disappeared the morning after our wedding and avoided me all day.”
“I needed space,” she snapped.
“You’re my wife.”
“Contractually,” she said, voice low.
“Don’t remind me.”
And then the silence cracked.
Adrian stepped closer, slowly, like a man challenging both himself and her. “You keep acting like I’m the only one lying here.”
Her heart slammed into her ribs. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“There’s something you’re hiding,” he said. “I saw it in your eyes last night. You’re scared.”
Liana crossed her arms. “You don’t know me.”
“I’m starting to.”
His gaze dropped to her lips.
God, not now. She turned away, but he caught her wrist, gently but firmly.
“Liana,” he said, low and rough. “Tell me.”
Her lips parted—but no words came out.
Not the right ones.
Not him.
She was afraid of the past.
Of what she and her mother had crawled out of.
Of the scars left behind by a man with cruel hands and a twisted smile who had once forced himself into their lives under the word “husband.”
And who had nearly killed her mother.
Adrian leaned in, brushing his lips across her jaw.
She shivered.
“Adrian…” she breathed.
He kissed her slowly at first, like a question.
Then again deeper, until her knees buckled and her hands found his chest.
He lifted her, setting her on the counter, his hands exploring her waist, his mouth claiming hers in a fevered rush. Her fingers tangled in his shirt, tugging at buttons, and he groaned low against her neck.
It was chaos.
Hot, heady, honest chaos.
“This isn’t” she started to whisper.
“In the contract?” he muttered, grazing her collarbone with his teeth. “Screw the contract.”
She gasped as his hand trailed up her thigh.
But then
Knock. Knock. Knock.
They froze.
Adrian backed up first, breath heavy, jaw tight.
He crossed the room, picking up an envelope that had been slid under the front door.
Unmarked. Thick.
He opened it.
And his expression shifted instantly.
“Liana.”
She slid off the counter, hair tousled, heart still racing. “What is it?”
He handed her the contents. “You should see this.”
Her eyes dropped to the enclosed photo.
Her hands trembled.
It was a blurry image of her and her mother… standing outside a battered courthouse, her mother’s face bruised, Liana’s head bowed beside her.
A second image: a newspaper clipping.
“Wife Escapes Allegedly Abusive Husband in Landmark Self-Defense Case”
The article featured her mother’s name Claudia Brooks and described the high-profile escape and court battle after years of torment from her husband, a prominent local businessman who had used his power to trap them both.
She remembered that day. The rain. The reporters. The flash of cameras as they fled through the side exit and into a borrowed car.
She hadn’t been more than thirteen.
Liana’s knees buckled slightly. She leaned against the counter.
There was a handwritten note.
“You can marry into money, but you can’t erase blood. People don’t forget scandal. Especially when there’s a child involved.”
Adrian’s voice broke the silence.
“What is this?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. It’s… It’s from a long time ago.”
“Liana.” His tone darkened. “Did your mother really… kill him?”
“No,” she whispered. “But she wanted to. And he would’ve killed her first if she hadn’t escaped.”
She looked up at him, her voice trembling.
“I’ve spent years hiding. Moving. Changing schools. Changing names. My mother’s terrified he had allies watching us. That’s why she never remarried. Why she never let me date. She thought we were finally safe.”
Adrian stared at her. “And now?”
Liana didn’t answer.
Because her phone buzzed again.
It was a news alert.
She read it aloud.
“Wife of Billionaire Professor Linked to Domestic Violence Scandal from Her Childhood: What Is Liana Brooks Hiding?”
Adrian’s phone buzzed too.
Then the landline.
Then the building intercom.
Outside, flashing lights from news vans and photographers were beginning to paint the pavement.
Adrian stepped to the window, jaw tight.
“They’re here.”
Liana gripped the counter, whispering, “I thought we buried that life.”
He turned toward her slowly.
His voice was barely audible. “You didn’t bury it deep enough.”
And then
His father called.
Adrian answered with a clipped, “What?”
Liana couldn’t hear both sides. But she heard enough.
“What the hell have you gotten us into?”
“Was she vetted?”
“I’m calling the lawyers.”
“She’s a PR disaster waiting to happen.”
Adrian ended the call without a word.
He looked at her no longer furious, just… still.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
- Writer
