Emery’s first task
1532 Words
The next morning, Emery stared at the red dress on her bed.
It was beautiful—long, silky, and deep red. She could tell it was expensive just by touching it. But she hadn’t picked it.
Julian had.
Next to the dress was a small note.
“No cleavage.” —Julian
She sighed and put it on, adjusting the waist and looking at herself in the mirror.
She barely recognized her reflection. She looked rich.
But she didn’t feel rich.
This wasn’t her real life. It was borrowed. A role she had to play in a billionaire’s game. Emery didn’t know if she was the player—or just a pawn.
Julian was waiting in the living room. He wore a navy-blue suit. Clean-shaven. Sharp. Cold.
He looked her up and down. “No cleavage. Good.”
Emery crossed her arms. “I’m not your Barbie doll.”
“No,” Julian said. “Barbies have more personality.”
She rolled her eyes. “Are you always this charming?”
“I don’t charm people. I pay them.”
Emery bit her tongue and followed him out.
Outside, a black SUV waited.
It drove them to a rooftop brunch in the Upper East Side. Everything looked rich—white umbrellas, champagne fountains, waiters in tuxedos, and lobster on silver trays at ten in the morning.
Emery stayed close to Julian, feeling like everyone was watching her.
They stopped at a table where an older couple stood waiting.
“Julian,” the man said with a smile. “And this must be your wife.”
Emery smiled politely and shook his hand. “I’m Emery.”
“Victor Halstorm,” the man said. “And this is my wife, Eleanor.”
Eleanor didn’t smile. She looked at Emery slowly—from her shoes to her earrings—and gave a short, cold nod.
“Pleasure,” she said, clearly not meaning it.
Emery sat next to Julian and tried to breathe normally.
She wasn’t used to caviar or gold forks. She wasn’t used to pretending.
Julian didn’t eat anything. He sat still, answering questions about business, stocks, and politics.
When Victor asked about the honeymoon, Julian smirked slightly. “We’re still recovering.”
Emery gave a fake laugh and squeezed his hand under the table.
His hand didn’t move. It was cold. Still.
“Newlyweds,” Eleanor said. “How lovely.”
She didn’t sound like she meant that either.
Emery glanced at Julian. He didn’t look at her. Didn’t blink. Didn’t smile.
She felt invisible.
Back at the penthouse, Emery kicked off her heels.
“Was that fun for you?” she asked.
“It went well,” Julian said.
“She hates me.”
“She hates everyone.”
“You could’ve at least pretended to like me.”
“I’m not an actor.”
“No, just a robot in a suit.”
Julian turned toward her, eyes sharp. “Do you want your sister to live, Emery?”
Her stomach tightened. “Don’t use her as a weapon.”
“Then don’t test my patience.”
Emery looked away. “I’m going to change.”
He didn’t stop her.
Over the next week, Emery learned how things worked.
Julian left early and came home late. Sometimes after midnight. Sometimes not at all.
He didn’t ask questions. Didn’t eat with her. Didn’t touch her.
The only time he seemed human was in his office. The door stayed locked. Blinds are always closed. The faint smell of whiskey drifted out.
Emery spent her days trying not to lose her mind.
She read books in the library. Swam in the indoor pool. Took phone calls from Claire.
Her sister’s voice was weak but sweet.
“I can’t believe you’re married,” Claire whispered over the phone. “What’s he like?”
“Quiet,” Emery said.
“Is he cute?”
“Unfortunately.”
Claire giggled. “Are you in love?”
“No.” But Emery’s chest hurt when she said it.
One night, Emery walked past Julian’s office and heard voices.
She paused outside the door.
“Yes,” Julian said. “She’s obeying the rules.”
A pause.
“No, she doesn’t suspect anything.”
Emery leaned in.
“She thinks it’s just for the image. She doesn’t know about the inheritance.”
Her heart dropped.
Inheritance?
She backed away, pressing her body against the wall. Her heart pounded in her chest.
He had lied.
This marriage wasn’t just for show. There was something more—and she wasn’t supposed to know.
The next morning, Julian handed her a tablet.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Your schedule. You’ll be attending a gala on Thursday. Wear the black dress in your closet. Smile when people speak to you. No more than two drinks.”
She frowned. “Are you giving me rules now?”
“I’m giving you the life you agreed to.”
“I’m not your pet.”
“No,” he said. “Pets get affection.”
Her face burned. “Why do you hate me?”
“I don’t hate you,” Julian replied. “I just don’t feel anything about you.”
She stared at him. “That’s sad.”
“No,” he said. “It’s safe.”
Thursday night, the gala was at the Museum of Modern Art.
Julian wore a sleek black suit.
Emery wore the black dress he told her to wear. It was backless. Tight. Showed more than he allowed.
When he saw her, his jaw tightened. “I said no cleavage.”
“This isn’t cleavage,” she said. “It’s strategy.”
“Don’t play games with me.”
She smiled. “Too late.”
At the gala, Emery smiled and talked to investors and donors.
Julian stayed on his phone.
A man walked over to her, holding two glasses of champagne.
“Alone again?” he asked.
He was tall, handsome, with messy blond hair and a teasing smile.
“I’m Leo,” he said. “A friend of Julian’s. Or… used to be.”
Emery raised an eyebrow. “Used to be?”
“We had a falling out. He doesn’t like competition.”
“Is this where you hit on the married woman?”
He smiled. “Only if she wants me to.”
“Too bad,” she said, sipping her drink. “I like my billionaires cold and cruel.”
“Then you married the right one.”
She laughed, but it didn’t feel real.
Across the room, Julian watched them. His jaw clenched. His eyes were cold.
Emery turned back to Leo. “What kind of falling out?”
Leo tilted his head. “Didn’t he tell you?”
“No.”
“Interesting,” Leo said. “I always thought Julian would marry for money. Not for love.”
She froze. “Who said anything about love?”
Leo smirked. “Touchy.”
In the car ride home, Julian didn’t say a word.
Then—“Stay away from Leo.”
“Why?”
“He’s a snake.”
“So are you.”
“I’m the snake that pays your bills.”
Emery let out a bitter laugh. “Wow. Romance isn’t dead after all.”
“You’re not here for romance.”
“No. I’m here for money. Right?”
He didn’t answer.
She turned to the window. Her eyes burned.
Later that night, Emery couldn’t sleep.
She stepped out to the balcony, wearing one of Julian’s shirts. Barefoot. Cold.
The city lights stretched on forever.
Behind her, the door slid open. Julian walked out with a glass of whiskey.
“You should be asleep,” he said.
“Can’t.”
He stood beside her. Quiet. Staring out at the night.
After a while, Emery asked, “Why me?”
“What?”
“Out of all the women in the world, why did you pick me?”
Julian didn’t answer right away.
“You were desperate,” he said finally. “Desperate people stay quiet. And I needed someone who wouldn’t ask questions.”
“But I did.”
“Too late now,” he said.
“You’re hiding something,” she whispered.
His jaw tightened.
“Go back to bed, Emery.”
She didn’t move.
He turned to face her.
“Don’t dig into things you can’t handle.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a warning.”
They stood in silence, the air between them heavy.
Then she turned and walked back inside.
He didn’t follow.
The next day, Emery called the hospital.
“I want Claire moved to a private room,” she said. “Put her on the new trial list. Upgrade her care.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the nurse said. “Mr. Blackthorn already approved it.”
Her heart twisted.
That night, Emery found a gift on her bed.
A diamond bracelet.
No note. No explanation.
She didn’t know if she should wear it—or throw it at his face.
In the end, she did neither.
She left it on the dresser…
And went to sleep.
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