The Love He Killed

Smile, Clara. They’re watching”. A breath before his kiss. Adrian breathed it on my lips. You're so beautiful. Now I’m happy you are mine. Not a single fib could a bride save for later. I smiled under cathedral lights, as three hundred guests applauded like they’d seen a miracle. Clara Whitmore, daughter of a disgraced man, had married the coldest billionaire in Manhattan, Adrian Sterling. I had won for them. His hand on my waist felt like a warning to me. He pressed his lips to mine for the cameras, quick and careful. He pulled back, his eyes were still cold. I told myself it was just nerves.I told myself powerful men didn't know how to be soft in public.I said a lot of foolish things to myself that day. By midnight, I'd run out of lies and got to face the honest truth. The bridal suite was quiet. My champagne stood, untouched, in a silver bucket. Two next to it, Too close, too hopeful. Adrian never came. I sat alone on the edge of the bed and my ring flashed light from the lampshade. Mrs. Adrian Sterling. The name sounded good on paper. It was like a door slamming shut in that room. Then I heard him say,“Low. Keen. From the other side of the Wall. I raised my head. Another softer voice replied, I stood up slowly and carefully, putting my bare feet on the cold floor. I put on the silk robe that the maid had left me and walked to the door, paying all attention toward the noisy room. It was dark outside, and the hallway was lined with pictures of Sterling men who looked like they had never asked for anything in their lives. Again came the voice of Adrian. “Burn the book.” I clutched the robe more tightly. I should've gone back. Her wedding night is not a night to wander through her husband's house, in search of secrets that were not hers to find. Then the other man said something I couldn't hear and Adrian answered. "None of us can know why I took her to my wife. I moved, before fear overcame me. At the end of the hallway, after a row of closed doors, stood one narrow door slightly opened .A thin blade of light reflected across the marble. I shoved it. The room smelt of dust and paper and something older, grief left too long without air. The walls were covered in photographs. A smiling young man came from them. Hair black. Eyes that never rest. Adrian's jaw, only softer. That was Nathan Sterling, alive in every picture. I entered. On the desk there were files, newspaper clippings, old police reports, medical forms and private investigation notes, all in painstaking order. These papers had been returned and again. Somebody has fed hatred here, till it learned to breathe. Then I saw the file, the brown leather, thick. Across the front was my father's name, written in bold black ink. ELIAS WHITMORE. My fingers grew cold. I took it. My father was shown on the first page. The second had dates I knew from rumor and closed doors. The third had gone around a sentence so hard the paper was nearly torn. Prime suspect in the ruination of Nathan Sterling's life and reputation. My breath hitched. I flipped to a different page. Bank transfers. Deposition. HEADLINES Allegations. Fraud, bribery, cover-up, and my father’s name beside them. The room's edges became fuzzy. As he shook his cane and looked behind me, my dad always said the affair was a lie. It looked like he had a knife to the truth's throat. Press. I heard the door close behind me. I stopped. “You were supposed to remain in the suite.” Adrian stood in the doorway, still in his wedding suit, his bow tie loosened, his dark hair mussed, and he spoke quietly. He didn't look like a groom. He looked like a man coming to collect a debt. I picked up the file. “What’s this?” His eyes fell on my father's name. Something tough crossed his face. "The truth." “My father’s name is written on every page. “Yes,” he said. “Why?” “Because Elias Whitmore murdered my brother.” I shook my head. “Certainly not,” “You don’t know what your father did. “I know my father. And I knew Nathan. The name escaped him unbidden. Hold on a second. Then it was lost, buried beneath the ice. My voice was smaller than I wanted. “This is why you married me? No answer from Adrian. I said, “You weren’t your choice.” Our eyes locked. The one mercilessly clean word: “No.” My hand lost its grip on the file. It fell to the floor between us, the pages fanned out like evidence spilled. "Then why?" I breathed out. He stepped closer. Not quickly. Not mad. That was worse. Each step was measured, deliberate, and cruel in its calm. “Your father was a man who didn’t suffer enough when his name went down. They hide themselves. “They let their daughters smile in white and pretend their blood is pure.” I felt my stomach drop. “So I took the one thing he hadn’t touched, you. “You married me to spite him.” “I married you to remind you of the Whitmore name what it did. My eyes were burning but I would not blink. Adrian, what have I done?' His face was changed for the first time. Not guilt, not pity, yet something close to discomfort. And then it was gone. "That was it. Your name. The words fell out where a heart should have been. I looked at my ring. The diamond shimmered as if nothing ugly had ever been on it.I wanted to pull it off.I was about to throw it at him. Instead, I just stood there for one step and I could break out in front of him, and he didn't deserve to see that. I told him, "You're cutting." He clenched his teeth very hard. “No, Clara. “I have patience.” His phone went off. Adrian didn’t even look. The phone rang again. His eyes went to the screen. I saw the name before he shot it down. Vivienne Cross The woman whose picture I had seen before, in his wallet. The woman of whom the servants dared not speak. The woman who wasn’t at our wedding, but was in every cold place between us. “Yes,” said Adrian. His voice changed a little, just enough to hurt. “Vivienne,” ‘Adrian,’ she replied. “I’m back.” Her voice trembles through the lines. And I hated how I looked. He asked, “What do you want?” Silence. Then Vivienne said, “I’ve understood what has happened to Nathan. I put my hands on the desk's edge firmly. Adrian stopped dead. Vivienne’s voice lowered. But you must come alone.” I moved closer. “Turn it on speaker,” Adrian looked right through me. “Put it on speaker,” I said again. His thumb spammed. The phone clicked. Vivienne took a sharp breath. Then her voice came into the room. “Don’t trust Clara. My blood ran cold. I looked at Adrian. I made myself breathe. "Why?" " Vivienne didn't immediately respond to me. Finally she spoke, and her words made the room smaller and darker and impossible to escape from. "Because Nathan left evidence before it all went wrong," she whispered. “And your wife’s standing in the room where you hid it.”