Married to the Cold Billionaire

Episode4

Chapter 8

The Ghosts He Carries

The rain started that night.

Not loudly—just enough to blur the city lights outside the tall windows of the mansion. Ariana sat curled on the couch, a blanket draped over her shoulders, watching droplets race each other down the glass.

Lucas stood near the window, phone pressed to his ear.

“No,” he said quietly. “I don’t care how long it takes. I want every trace gone.”

He ended the call and stayed there, shoulders tense.

Ariana studied him from where she sat.

He looked… tired.

Not the polished, untouchable billionaire the world saw—but a man weighed down by something old and heavy.

“You don’t sleep much,” she said softly.

Lucas turned slightly. “Neither do you.”

“Nightmares,” she admitted.

He hesitated. “About what?”

“About losing control,” Ariana said. “About waking up one day and realizing I don’t recognize myself anymore.”

Lucas looked away.

The silence between them was different now—not sharp, not cold.

Fragile.

Later that night, the power flickered.

Once.

Twice.

Then darkness swallowed the room.

Ariana gasped softly.

The emergency lights came on seconds later, dim but steady.

Lucas moved immediately.

“Stay here,” he said.

“I’m fine,” Ariana replied, though her heart raced.

The thunder cracked loudly overhead.

Ariana flinched.

Lucas noticed.

He walked back toward her slowly.

“You don’t like storms?” he asked.

“I used to,” she said. “Before.”

Before poverty. Before desperation. Before contracts.

Before him.

Lucas nodded as if he understood.

“Come with me,” he said suddenly.

“Where?”

“My study.”

She hesitated, then stood.

That room had always felt off-limits.

Private.

Personal.

Lucas unlocked the door and gestured for her to enter.

The room was darker than usual, lit only by desk lamps and the soft glow of the city beyond the windows. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled not with business manuals—but novels, biographies, history.

Human things.

“I didn’t expect this,” Ariana said quietly.

“Most people don’t,” Lucas replied.

He poured two glasses of water and handed one to her.

They sat opposite each other.

The storm raged outside.

Lucas stared at his glass for a long moment before speaking.

“You asked why Evelyn warned you not to get attached,” he said.

Ariana stiffened slightly. “Yes.”

“She wasn’t trying to protect you,” he continued. “She was warning herself.”

Ariana frowned. “What do you mean?”

Lucas exhaled slowly.

“I was engaged once,” he said.

Her heart skipped.

“I didn’t know.”

“Few people do,” he replied. “Her name was Claire.”

The name hung in the air.

“She wasn’t part of my world,” Lucas continued. “She was kind. Ordinary. She laughed too easily.”

Ariana listened silently.

“I loved her,” he said flatly.

The words shocked her more than anything else he had said before.

“What happened?” she asked gently.

Lucas’s jaw tightened.

“She died.”

Ariana’s breath caught.

“An accident?” she whispered.

He nodded once. “Car explosion. Targeted.”

Ariana’s hand tightened around the glass.

“Because of you?”

“Yes.”

The storm outside roared louder.

“She didn’t know the dangers,” Lucas said. “She trusted me. And I failed her.”

Ariana’s chest ached.

“That’s why you keep distance,” she said softly.

Lucas looked at her.

“That’s why I don’t touch,” he said. “Why I don’t promise. Why I keep walls.”

Ariana swallowed.

“And why you’re afraid of caring again,” she added.

Lucas didn’t deny it.

“You remind me of her,” he said quietly. “Not in who you are—but in what you don’t belong to.”

Her heart twisted painfully.

“That’s not fair,” Ariana said. “I’m not her.”

“I know,” Lucas replied. “That’s what terrifies me.”

Silence fell.

Heavy.

Truth-filled.

That night, Ariana couldn’t sleep.

Lucas’s confession echoed in her mind.

He wasn’t cold.

He was haunted.

Around 2 a.m., she heard soft footsteps outside her door.

Then a knock.

She sat up. “Lucas?”

“Yes.”

She opened the door slightly.

He stood there, tension etched into his face.

“The storm reminded me,” he said. “Of that night.”

Ariana hesitated—then opened the door fully.

“You don’t have to be alone,” she said.

Lucas stepped inside but kept his distance.

“I don’t expect anything,” he said. “I just—needed to hear someone breathing.”

Ariana sat on the bed, patting the space beside her—but not close.

Lucas sat on the chair instead.

The rain softened.

Minutes passed.

Then Ariana spoke.

“You didn’t fail her,” she said.

Lucas scoffed. “I brought her into my world.”

“You didn’t choose the danger,” Ariana replied. “You chose love.”

He looked at her sharply.

“That’s the same mistake,” he said.

“No,” she replied firmly. “The mistake would be letting fear win forever.”

Lucas stared at her.

“You’re braver than you think,” she added.

“And you’re not as heartless as you pretend.”

The words sank deep.

Lucas stood slowly.

“You should sleep,” he said.

“So should you.”

He nodded once.

At the door, he paused.

“I won’t let what happened to her happen to you,” he said quietly.

Ariana met his gaze.

“I don’t want to be protected from life,” she said. “I want to live it—with awareness.”

Lucas left without another word.

But something fundamental had changed.

The next morning, Ariana woke to sunlight.

Not alarms.

Not tension.

Sunlight.

Downstairs, Lucas was already at the table.

“You’re up early,” she said.

“So are you,” he replied.

They shared coffee in silence.

But it wasn’t cold anymore.

It was careful.

Intentional.

Before leaving for work, Lucas stopped beside her.

“There’s something else,” he said.

She looked up.

“The board is pushing for you to attend the next public gala with me,” he said. “As my wife.”

Her pulse quickened.

“Are you okay with that?” she asked.

Lucas hesitated.

“I don’t want to hide you,” he said. “And I don’t want to cage you.”

Ariana smiled faintly.

“Then let’s face it together,” she said.

Lucas nodded.

For the first time…

He didn’t walk away immediately.

Chapter 9

Under the Lights

The gala was nothing like Ariana imagined.

It wasn’t just elegant—it was overwhelming.

Crystal chandeliers shimmered above a sea of tailored suits and designer gowns. Soft music floated through the air, masking sharp conversations about money, power, and influence.

This was Lucas’s world.

And tonight, she was stepping into it fully exposed.

Ariana stood in front of the mirror as stylists finished the final touches. The dress was simple but stunning—deep emerald silk that flowed effortlessly, elegant without screaming for attention.

Lucas watched from across the room.

He hadn’t spoken in minutes.

“You’re staring,” Ariana said quietly.

Lucas cleared his throat. “I’m assessing security.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Liar.”

A corner of his mouth twitched despite himself.

“You look…” He paused, searching for the right word. “…noticed.”

Ariana smiled nervously. “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

Lucas stepped closer, his voice lowering.

“Stay close to me tonight,” he said. “Not because I don’t trust you—because I don’t trust them.”

She nodded.

“I can do that.”

His hand hovered briefly near her back—then dropped.

Restraint.

Always restraint.

The moment they entered the ballroom, the atmosphere shifted.

Heads turned.

Whispers followed.

Phones subtly angled.

Ariana felt it instantly—the weight of curiosity pressing in from every direction.

That’s her.

She doesn’t look like what I expected.

Where did he find her?

Lucas placed his hand lightly at her elbow.

A grounding touch.

“She’s beautiful,” someone murmured nearby.

Lucas didn’t respond.

He guided Ariana through the crowd with practiced ease, nodding politely, exchanging brief words with powerful people.

“This is Mr. Hawthorne.”

“A pleasure.”

“And this is my wife.”

My wife.

Each time he said it, Ariana felt something warm—and dangerous—bloom in her chest.

Then she saw her.

Evelyn.

She stood near the bar, flawless and smiling, her eyes locking onto Ariana instantly.

“Well,” Evelyn said moments later, approaching them. “If it isn’t the mystery bride.”

Ariana stiffened.

Lucas’s posture changed immediately.

“Evelyn,” he said coolly.

She looked Ariana up and down, her smile sharp. “You clean up nicely.”

“Thank you,” Ariana replied calmly.

Evelyn leaned closer. “Careful tonight. The spotlight burns.”

Lucas stepped in smoothly. “That will be enough.”

Evelyn laughed lightly. “Still so protective.”

Her eyes lingered on Lucas a moment too long before she walked away.

Ariana exhaled slowly.

“Is she always like that?” she asked.

“Yes,” Lucas replied. “Which is why I don’t let her get close.”

Something about that reassurance settled her nerves.

As the night progressed, Ariana found herself speaking with people she never imagined meeting. Some were kind. Others were clearly probing.

“How did you and Lucas meet?”

“What do you do?”

“Will you be attending future events?”

Ariana answered carefully, honestly—without revealing too much.

Lucas watched from a short distance, his gaze never straying far.

Then it happened.

Daniel appeared.

Ariana felt it before she saw him.

“Mrs. Blackwood,” he said pleasantly. “We meet again.”

Her stomach tightened.

“Daniel,” she replied coolly.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said. “But I suppose that’s the point.”

Lucas was beside her instantly.

“I believe we’ve already met,” Lucas said flatly.

Daniel smiled. “Hard to forget.”

“You’re making my wife uncomfortable,” Lucas continued.

Daniel raised his hands. “Just conversation.”

“Then have it elsewhere,” Lucas said.

The tension was unmistakable.

Eyes turned.

Daniel leaned in slightly. “You’re very guarded, Mr. Blackwood. Makes people curious.”

Lucas stepped forward, voice low and lethal. “Walk away.”

Daniel held his gaze for a moment—then smirked and left.

Ariana’s pulse raced.

Lucas turned to her immediately. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she said. “Thank you.”

His jaw tightened.

“I don’t like him looking at you,” he admitted quietly.

Her heart skipped.

“Why?” she asked softly.

Lucas hesitated.

“Because,” he said, “he sees you as something to take.”

The word sent a shiver through her.

“And you don’t?” she asked.

Lucas met her eyes.

“No,” he said. “I see you as something to protect.”

She didn’t correct him.

Not tonight.

Later, as the crowd thinned, Lucas led Ariana onto the balcony overlooking the city.

The noise faded behind them.

Cool air brushed her skin.

“You handled yourself well,” Lucas said.

“I was terrified,” she admitted.

He nodded. “So was I.”

She looked at him in surprise.

“You don’t look afraid,” she said.

“I am,” he replied quietly. “Of wanting more than I can afford.”

The honesty stunned her.

“Lucas…” she began.

He stepped closer—not touching.

“I don’t want this to be another mistake,” he said. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Ariana swallowed hard.

“You don’t have to lose me,” she said. “You just have to stop running.”

Their eyes locked.

The moment stretched—charged, intimate, dangerous.

Then applause erupted inside the ballroom, breaking the spell.

Lucas stepped back slightly.

“We should go,” he said.

As they reentered, Ariana realized something important.

This marriage was no longer just a contract.

It was a battlefield.

And feelings were the most dangerous weapons of all.