Chapter 3: Looking, Not Touching
1102 Words
The dress didn’t fit right.
It was expensive. Obviously. Heavy fabric that fell the way money wanted it to fall. Too smooth. It clung to her shoulders, the neckline just low enough that she kept feeling bare without knowing why.
Lena tugged at the sleeve. It slipped into place as if it had a mind of its own.
Behind her stood Ruth, looking on in the mirror.
“You don’t have to act so squirmy,” Ruth said.
“I really do,” Lena replied.
Ruth didn’t comment. She just reached out and fiddled with the neckline. Fingers quick. Professional. No hesitation.
“They’re gonna be watching your hands,” Ruth said. “Keep them still.”
Lena huffed a quiet laugh. “Of course they will.”
Ruth caught her eye in the mirror. There was caution in her glance. Not unkind. Not warm either.
“The car is ready.”
Lena nodded. Her throat felt tight. She swallowed and looked away from the mirror before she could begin picking herself apart again.
Ethan was standing at the bottom of the stairwell.
He looked different today. Sharper. Closed-off in a way that made her chest hurt for reasons she didn’t want to think about. Dark suit. No tie. His jacket was open, as if he could possibly take it off in the next moment or as if he didn’t really fit in this jacket.
His eyes flicked to her. Took her in. Not the way a man regards a woman. Like someone checking an equation.
“Good,” he said.
That was it.
Good.
She walked out to the car with him. Security led the way, opening doors, scanning the driveway. Everything flowed around him smoothly. Automatically.
Lena had to tell herself to keep walking.
The silence bore in on them inside the car. She heard the leather seat creak as she leaned. She folded her hands across her lap, which is what Ruth had told her to do.
The car pulled away.
“You know what the rules are,” Ethan said, not meeting her gaze.
“I don’t say a word unless someone addresses me,” Lena said. “I smile. I stand where you tell me.”
“Yes.”
“And I don’t contradict you.”
“No.”
She glanced at him. “Even if you lie?”
His jaw tightened just slightly. “Especially then.”
The city scrolled past the window. People walking. Living normal lives. None of them, of course, knew she was being paraded somewhere she shouldn’t be, dressed like a dead woman.
“Why this event?” she asked.
“It had already been scheduled,” Ethan said. “Canceling it would raise questions.”
“So this is damage control.”
“Yes.”
“For who?”
He didn’t answer.
It was a glass-and-steel palace of guards. More cameras. More flashing. The car stopped and noise crept in. Voices. Shutters. Her name again, turned into something else.
Ethan emerged first, and extended his hand.
She hesitated. Just a second.
He looked at her. Not angry. Not impatient. Expectant.
She took it.
His grip was warm. Firm. It kept her ground to a greater degree than she cared to acknowledge.
Inside smelled like polish and flowers. The room was already full. Men in suits. Women in dresses like hers. Discussions ebbed and flowed as though in waves.
Heads turned.
Lena felt it immediately. The attention. Its weight dragging against her skin.
“This way,” Ethan murmured.
They moved through the room. People smiled. Nodded. Whispered.
“I thought she was dead.”
“She looks thinner.”
“Is that really her?”
Lena kept her eyes forward. Her face hurt from maintaining a smile that wasn’t her own.
At a long table, he stopped. Ethan greeted people Lena did not know. She nodded when they introduced her. She held her hands perfectly still.
A woman slowly approached them, tall, well-dressed, with silver hair tied back immaculately.
“Ethan,” she greeted him joyfully, “it’s been so long.” Then she turned to Lena. “My dear.”
Lena’s stomach dropped.
“We were all so worried,” she continued. “Welcome back.”
Lena opened her mouth. Just then, Ethan squeezed her hand slightly.
“Thank you,” Lena said.
The woman looked at her closely. “You have changed.”
Lena smiled. “So I was told.”
The woman looked at her again. “Later, Ethan,” she said, and went away.
Lena slowly exhaled.
“You’re doing well,” Ethan said quietly.
“I feel like I’m going to faint.”
“You won’t.”
He sounded sure of that.
They took their seats. Plates appeared. Food was placed on Lena’s plate, but she did not touch any of it.
Conversation spun around her. She heard only fragments; the stock exchange. Shares. Stability.
Always stability. A man across the table leaned toward her. Mrs. Blackwood. “It’s good to see you, Mrs. Blackwood,” he said. “We didn’t know what to think.”
Lena looked at Ethan.
He didn’t look at her.
“I needed time,” Lena said.
“Of course,” he agreed. “Grief changes people.”
Lena’s ribcage squeezed.
Ethan brushed his knee against hers beneath the table. Once.
Dessert was served. She did not touch it either.
A maid came over andwhispered something to Ethan.
Ethan froze.
Just for a second.
“What?” she asked.
He did not answer. He leaped up off the seat.
“Forgive us,” he told the table.
He dragged her with him too quickly.
“What’s happening?” she cried out.
“Calm down,” he said.
They pushed toward one of the exits. Security closed in around them.
Lena’s pulse raced. “Ethan.”
He came to a halt in a still corridor. Turned to her.
“They found something,” he said.
Her mouth went dry. “What?”
His gaze held hers. Searching. Measuring.
“New footage,” he said. “From the marina.”
Her heart pounded against her ribs.
“From the night my wife was murdered,” he added.
Lena’s breath caught. “That doesn’t mean—”
“It shows you,” Ethan said.
The world seemed to tilt.
“Doing what?” she whispered.
Before he could respond, his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His face went blank.
“It’s the police,” he said.
And somewhere behind them, there was the sound of a door opening, and footsteps running closer.
- Writer
