Beneath His Heart

chapter 8

April’s pov

Morning sunlight spilled through the tall glass windows, soft and golden — but it felt more like a spotlight, exposing me on a stage I never agreed to step onto.

I woke up alone.

The other side of the bed was untouched. Cold. Like he hadn’t returned at all. Or maybe… he had, but couldn’t bring himself to lie next to me.

Last night still lingered on my skin like perfume that refused to fade. His lips. His touch. That kiss — desperate, burning, almost tender — until it turned to ash.

“You’re not her.”

Those words echoed like a cruel lullaby.

I sat up slowly, the silk sheets sliding off my shoulder. My body still remembered him — the heat, the ache, the electricity. Then the silence.

I reached for the ivory robe — soft, monogrammed in delicate stitching.

G.B.

Gwen Black.

Even this whispered a lie I couldn’t correct.

I padded across the cold marble floor toward the vanity. The mirror met me with the reflection of a stranger. Pale skin. Puffy eyes. Tousled hair. The aftermath of a night that ended not in love, but in silence.

I tried smoothing down my hair with trembling hands, as if fixing the outside could erase the wreckage inside.

A knock at the door broke the quiet.

My heart jumped.

But it wasn’t him.

It was Savannah.

“Madam,” she said gently. “Mr. Black left early for an emergency meeting in London. He asked me to inform you that you’ll be moved to Blackmount Estate this afternoon.”

I froze.

London?

No goodbye.

No explanation.

Not even a glance.

I swallowed. “Did he leave a message?”

A short pause. “No, madam.”

Of course not.

Because I didn’t deserve one.

Because I wasn’t her.

Savannah hesitated. “Also… a delivery arrived for you. From someone named Jayson King.”

My breath caught.

Jayson?

I stepped out quickly, and Savannah handed me a sleek black envelope. No return address. Just one initial on the front — his familiar handwriting carving a single letter:

“A.”

Not Gwen.

Not April.

Just A.

I tore it open. Inside was a single note:

April,

I don’t know what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into — but we need to talk.

Now.

Central Flow.

— J.

I didn’t have time to think. Jay and Ruth were here. I had to see them before leaving for Blackmount Estate in Newville — two hours from here.

I dressed quickly in a blue floral sundress and tied my hair back with a headband.

As I stepped out of the penthouse, one of Alexander’s bodyguards moved in front of me.

“Ma’am, you’re not permitted to leave without Mr. Black’s permission,” he said firmly.

I blinked.

What am I now — under house arrest?

“Please. I just need to see my friends before heading to Newville. It’s urgent,” I said calmly.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I have to follow Mr. Black’s orders.”

I felt a surge of something — anger? Desperation?

“Look, I am his wife,” I snapped. “You obey me too.”

He hesitated, clearly conflicted.

I knew I wouldn’t be allowed to leave that easily.

“Can you call Savannah? Oh, wait — there she is.” I pointed behind him.

He turned.

And I ran.

The elevator doors slid shut just as he lunged toward me. I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

Next goal: escape the building.

I flagged down a taxi and jumped in, giving the driver the address.

Soon, I arrived at Central Flow.

I scanned the crowd until I saw them — Jayson and Ruth.

Ruth waved. I rushed toward them.

“I’m sorry,” I said — and the tears came without warning.

Jayson pulled me into a hug, holding me like a brother would. Ruth gently rubbed my back.

“I’m sorry, Jay. I’m so, so sorry,” I sobbed into his shoulder.

“It’s okay, April. We’re here. I’ve got you,” he said softly.

“Sit down,” Ruth added gently. “Take a breath. Tell us everything.”

“How did you even find out?” I asked.

They handed me a newspaper.

“The Most Eligible Bachelor in New York Is No Longer Eligible.”

Spotted: The mysterious bride in a white sapphire gown. Rumors swirl around Alexander Black's secret marriage. Though her identity remains unclear, sources confirm she is not his longtime girlfriend.

There were two grainy photos — one from the wedding, one from the reception. My face wasn’t clearly visible in either.

I placed the paper down, both of them watching me closely.

So I told them everything. From the arranged engagement to Andrew Nicholas… the drunken mistake… the sudden marriage… and Alexander’s cold, confusing behavior.

“How dare he?” Jayson said, furious.

“What a jerk,” Ruth added.

“He thought Gwen was April?” Ruth asked.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Then why didn’t you just tell him?” she asked.

“Because… he loves her. Even if I told him the truth, he wouldn’t believe me.”

I paused. “He already made it clear.”

‘You’re not her.’

The memory cut deeper than I expected.

“So what now?” Jayson asked gently.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Everything happened so fast. And Andrew… he hates me. I’ve never even met him, but he talks like I ruined his life.”

“They were close, Alexander and Andrew,” Jayson said. “Almost like family. Maybe this marriage — the way it happened — made Andrew lash out.”

“Andrew’s a controlling jerk,” Ruth snapped.

“Hey, careful. He’s our boss now,” Jayson reminded her.

“Oh, please. Feeling loyal, Mr. Assistant?” she teased.

“Wait — he’s your boss?” I blinked.

“Yeah,” Ruth nodded. “He’s taken over after his dad retired. Andrew Nicholas is running the entire empire now.”

She leaned forward, eyes blazing. “But you be careful. If I see that husband of yours again — I swear, I’ll chop him into pieces for hurting you.”

I laughed, and for the first time in days, it didn’t feel forced.

They smiled too, relieved to see me smiling.

But it didn’t last.

Across the street, a sleek black car pulled up.

And stepped in Alexander —

With Gwen.

Together.

Getting into the car.

My heart dropped.

Savannah had told me he was in London.

But he was here.

With her.

And in that moment…

Something inside me broke again.

Like the air had been punched out of my lungs.