THE VENGEANCE MARRIAGE

He Keeps Watching

Lena’s breath caught in her throat.

She froze where she stood, her fingers curling into the fabric of her dress as though gluing her feet to the floor. She’s still the same. The words echoed in her head, spoken with a familiarity that made her skin prickle. Same as who? Same as what? Her heart began to race, loud enough that she feared it might give her away. Who was he referring to? Her?

She took a careful step back, then another, her movements slow and quiet. She didn’t want to be seen. She didn’t want to explain why she was there, wandering into parts of the house she hadn’t been invited to. Just as she turned the corner of the hallway—

“Madam?”

Lena startled violently, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

Margaret stood a few feet away, a folded linen draped over her arm, her brows knitting together in mild concern. “Is everything alright? What are you doing down this wing?”

“I—I was just…” Lena’s voice faltered. Heat rushed to her face. She hadn’t even come up with a lie. “I was looking around. I didn’t mean to— I mean, I got lost.”

Margaret’s expression softened, but there was something else there too. Caution. “This part of the house is usually—”

The office door opened.

Julian stepped out.

The air seemed to change instantly. Lena felt it press down on her shoulders, heavy and suffocating. He looked between them, his expression calm, unreadable, as though he hadn’t just been speaking words that still rang in her ears.

“What’s going on?” he asked evenly.

Margaret straightened. “I found Mrs. Blackwood here, sir. She said she was looking around.”

Julian’s gaze shifted to Lena. It wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t accusing. It was observant, steady, as though he were taking something in rather than reacting.

“I’m sorry,” Lena blurted out before she could stop herself. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I was just exploring the house and— I won’t come here again.”

Silence stretched between them.

Julian studied her for a long moment, his eyes flicking briefly to her clenched hands, her stiff posture, the way she stood as if bracing for reprimand.

“It’s fine,” he said at last.

Fine.

The word should have eased her, but it didn’t. It sounded dismissive, controlled. Final.

“You can explore the house,” he added, his tone neutral. “Just let someone know next time.”

Margaret nodded quickly. “I’ll show madam back to the garden.”

Julian didn’t argue. He simply held Lena’s gaze for a second longer than necessary before stepping aside, retreating back into his office and closing the door behind him with a quiet click while Margaret guided Lena out of the hallway.

Once Lena got to her room, she slumped on her bed trying to force herself from drowning in embarrassment. What was she thinking? Exploring the house without the owners permission. She tossed and turned on the bed, badly trying to shove the thought off her mind.

Once inside his office again, for a moment, Julian paused, thinking of her. Did she hear him? Everything he had said. Did she understand? He pushed the thought aside. It didn’t matter. She didn’t need to know yet. Not today.

He had no urgent work to attend to. Instead, he sorted through files in his office, organized the household accounts, and ticked off tasks that were more personal than professional. The hours passed quietly, and he hadn’t realized how much time he had spent in his office. Outside, the day moved on unnoticed, and before he realized it, the sun was slipping below the horizon.

Time to eat.

He left his office and walked into the sitting room. Lena was already there, seated with perfect posture, hands folded over her plate as though holding herself together with sheer force. She looked up when he entered, startled just slightly, and immediately returned her gaze to her food.

He noted the subtle, familiar habit she had—biting the inside of her lower lip whenever she was anxious, and tapping her fingers on anything around her. Her usual habit, he thought, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. He wanted to comment, to tease her gently, to make the silence break in some way—but he held himself back. Not yet. Not now. He simply sat down across from her and began his own meal.

She ate slowly, cautiously, as though each bite required deliberation. He watched her carefully, studying the way she chewed, the way she shifted her hands on the table. When his housekeeper, Margaret came in to clear some of the empty plates, Julian remained seated, finishing his own meal before her, and refusing to rise. Lena noticed, confusion creeping over her features. Why was he still there? Why had he not excused himself, gone back to his office or upstairs?

Summoning courage, she finally spoke, her voice tentative. “Um… you’ve been… staring at me. Did I… do something wrong? Is there… something on my face?”

Julian’s gaze didn’t waver. His tone was casual, but deliberate. “No.”

Lena’s cheeks flushed. She turned back to her plate, awkwardly continuing to eat, yet she couldn’t stop glancing at him because he was still staring. The intensity of his stare unnerved her, made her heart beat unevenly. Every minute stretched endlessly, the silence ate her up deeply.

When she finally finished, she pushed back her chair, ready to retreat to the quiet of her room.

“Wait.” His voice sounded echoing.

The single word froze her mid-step. She turned slowly. Julian remained seated, eyes still fixed on her. There was nothing in his eyes, no expression—just scrutiny, calm and unrelenting. She waited, tension coiling in her chest, for him to continue. He didn’t and she proceeded to go back to her room.

When she moved to turn again, intending to go, his voice stopped her for the second time. “Are you… scared of me?”

She paused. The question hit her harder than she expected. His words made her aware of the fact that he notices every shiver, every flinch, every hesitation she had tried to mask since their wedding. “I’m not scared of you,” she said, her voice sharp with denial. “Why would I be?”

He scoffed, “I see the way you shiver. I see how you move. I see how you hesitate around me.” His eyes softened, just a bit, yet the control remained. “You don’t have to be scared of me. I’m your husband.”

The words hung on the air like a living thing. Her body betrayed her—shivers ran down her spine. ‘Your husband.’ Weeks of silence, distance, and unreadable behavior—all broken by a simple phrase that made her heart seize.

Julian rose, moving toward her, and reached into his pocket. He drew out something and extended it toward her. She took it carefully. A sleek phone rested in her palm.

“I noticed the other one you used wasn’t very functional,” he said simply. “Now you’ll be able to contact your parents… and me, if there’s a problem.”

“Th… thank you,” She muttered, barely looking up.

Before she could process the gesture, Julian stepped closer. The sudden closeness pressed her into an unsteady awareness of him. Her pulse raced, her breaths shallow, each heart beat louder than she expected.

“I said loosen up, you’re my wife.”

And then, almost instinctively, he pressed his lips against her face. It was quick and unannounced, and it sent a shockwave through her. Her mind went blank. Her heart raced. The world seemed to be in an abrupt pause and it felt to her like hours as their lips collide, but it was only a few seconds.

The phone slipped from her hand, clattering to the floor.