Chapter Two: The Wife the World Must Believe
1118 Words
The ring was heavier than Iris expected.
Not because of the diamond it was tasteful, deceptively simple but because of what it meant. A circle of gold that locked her into a lie so elaborate the entire world would help enforce it.
Sebastian Crowe slid it onto her finger without ceremony.
No kiss. No smile. No witnesses.
Just the soft click of metal settling into place.
“Congratulations,” he said calmly. “You’re officially Mrs. Crowe.”
The words felt wrong on her skin.
“I haven’t signed yet,” Iris replied, withdrawing her hand.
Sebastian didn’t look offended. If anything, he looked amused.
“You will,” he said. “You’re already halfway there.”
She followed him down the long corridor of the estate, her heels echoing against the marble floors. Every step felt like crossing another invisible line out of her old life and into something she didn’t yet understand.
“This marriage is a performance,” Iris said sharply. “In public only.”
Sebastian stopped in front of a tall glass window overlooking the cliffs. The ocean below churned violently, waves slamming into rock with relentless force.
“Public lies are the easiest kind,” he said. “Private ones are harder to maintain.”
She folded her arms. “I won’t be your decoration.”
“You won’t be,” he replied. “You’ll be my equal.”
She laughed under her breath. “You don’t believe in equals.”
Sebastian turned to her slowly. Up close, she noticed the fine scar near his jaw, pale against his skin old, precise, intentional.
“I believe in assets,” he said. “And liabilities.”
“And I’m what?” she asked.
His gaze lingered on her face, unreadable. “Both.”
A knock interrupted them.
A woman entered mid-thirties, crisp suit, eyes sharp with efficiency.
“Press conference is confirmed for tomorrow morning,” she said, glancing briefly at Iris. “The announcement has already leaked.”
Iris stiffened. “Leaked?”
Sebastian nodded. “You don’t introduce a wife quietly.”
The woman extended her hand. “Elena Royce. Legal counsel. I’ll be handling the optics of your marriage.”
Optics.
Iris shook her hand. “So this is real to the world already.”
“Yes,” Elena said. “The narrative is simple: private relationship, sudden decision, quiet ceremony.”
“And if I contradict it?” Iris asked.
Elena smiled politely. “Then we’ll have a problem.”
Sebastian dismissed her with a look.
Once they were alone again, Iris exhaled sharply. “You planned this.”
“Of course,” he said. “Chaos is only useful when it’s controlled.”
“Do you control everything?” she asked.
“No,” he replied.
The way he said it made her look at him more closely.
“I control what survives.”
Her room was on the east wing.
Large. Immaculate. Cold.
The walls were painted a pale gray, the bed perfectly made, the windows overlooking the forest rather than the sea. No personal touches. No warmth.
A room designed for someone who wasn’t meant to stay.
“This is temporary,” Iris said, setting her bag down.
“Everything is,” Sebastian replied from the doorway.
She turned. “You won’t come in.”
“I won’t,” he agreed.
But he didn’t move.
The silence stretched thick, uncomfortable.
“There are locked rooms in this house,” Iris said suddenly. “Why?”
Sebastian’s expression hardened by a fraction. “Curiosity is dangerous.”
“So is secrecy.”
“Yes,” he said softly. “It always is.”
She held his gaze, refusing to be the first to look away.
Finally, he stepped back. “Dinner is at eight. We dine together when we’re in public view.”
“And when we’re not?”
“We still dine together,” he said. “Appearances begin at home.”
The door closed.
Iris sat on the edge of the bed, her pulse loud in her ears.
She had agreed to this to survive.
She hadn’t considered what it would cost her.
The press conference was a blur of lights and controlled smiles.
Sebastian’s hand rested at the small of her back, firm but not intimate. A guiding pressure that reminded her exactly where she stood beside him, never ahead.
“Mr. Crowe, when did you meet your wife?” a reporter called.
Sebastian didn’t hesitate. “Two years ago.”
Iris turned her head slightly, eyes flicking to his.
Two years?
She recovered instantly.
“It wasn’t dramatic,” she said smoothly. “Just… unexpected.”
Sebastian glanced at her then. Something flickered in his eyes approval, perhaps.
“Is this marriage connected to recent rumors surrounding Crowe Industries?” another voice shouted.
Sebastian’s grip tightened imperceptibly.
“I protect what’s mine,” he said. “That includes my family.”
Family.
The word wrapped around her throat.
Cameras flashed.
Sebastian leaned in, lips brushing her ear without touching.
“Smile,” he murmured. “They’re watching.”
She did.
And the world believed them.
That night, Iris couldn’t sleep.
The house was too quiet.
Too aware.
She lay awake listening to the wind rattle the windows, the distant creak of wood settling. Somewhere down the hall, a door opened and closed.
She sat up.
Carefully, she slipped from the bed and stepped into the corridor.
The lights were dimmed, the floor cool beneath her feet. She followed the sound instinctively, drawn by something she couldn’t name.
Then she saw it.
A door she hadn’t noticed before.
Black. Unmarked.
Locked.
She reached out
“Don’t.”
Sebastian’s voice came from behind her.
She spun. “You’re following me now?”
“I live here,” he replied.
“You didn’t answer my question earlier,” she said. “What’s behind these doors?”
Sebastian stepped closer, shadows carving his face into something darker.
“Regret,” he said.
She searched his expression. “Yours?”
“For now.”
Her heart thudded. “You expect me to live here without answers?”
“I expect you to live,” he said. “The rest is negotiable.”
Silence pulsed between them.
“This marriage,” Iris said quietly, “isn’t just about protection.”
Sebastian looked at her for a long moment.
“No,” he admitted. “It isn’t.”
“And what happens,” she asked, “when I stop playing my role?”
His gaze dropped to her lips. Just for a second.
“Then,” he said, “things become dangerous.”
She should have stepped back.
She didn’t.
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