Becoming Mrs.Terry

Becoming Mrs. Terry

Chapter Four: Lines Begin to Blur

Tinah stood in front of the mirror, blouse halfway buttoned, and stared at her reflection with tired eyes.

The fabric felt too tight, the sleeves too stiff, and the air in the room far too heavy. She’d been through three different outfits already, each more luxurious than the last—and none of them felt like her. They were beautiful, expensive, and soulless.

Just like the house.

She sighed and sat on the edge of the velvet-covered bed, folding her arms across her chest. The silence wrapped around her like a blanket she didn’t ask for. In her old apartment, the sounds of traffic and distant laughter filtered in through the thin walls. Here, all she heard was quiet. Sterile, suffocating quiet.

It was just a dress fitting.

It shouldn’t feel like a breakdown.

But it did.

She hadn’t seen Rowland since she signed the marriage contract two days ago. He didn’t call. Didn’t ask how she was adjusting. Didn’t even text. Not that she expected tenderness—he was clear about that from the beginning.

Still, something about the way he disappeared into his world of meetings and phone calls made her feel less like a wife and more like a carefully placed object on a shelf.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock.

“Come in,” she called, expecting Mrs. Danvers.

But it wasn’t the housekeeper.

It was him.

Rowland Terry stood in the doorway, sleeves rolled up, no tie tonight, eyes scanning the room before settling on her. For once, he didn’t look polished. He looked… tired. Human.

“You didn’t show up for dinner,” he said evenly.

“I wasn’t hungry,” she replied, careful to keep her voice calm.

“You skipped yesterday too.”

“I didn’t realize this marriage came with meal requirements.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “It comes with appearances, Mrs. Terry. Whether you’re hungry or not, people notice when you’re absent.”

Her mouth twitched. “I thought the whole point of this marriage was that no one notices what’s fake.”

Rowland stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The tension in the room shifted instantly—thickened.

“I hired someone who could pretend,” he said. “I didn’t expect you to vanish.”

“I’m not vanishing,” she snapped, rising from the bed. “I’m adjusting.”

“To what? Silk sheets and catered meals?”

“To being a woman who grew up in foster care now pretending to be the wife of a billionaire,” she shot back, voice tight. “Do you have any idea what that feels like? Everyone here looks at me like I don’t belong. And maybe they’re right.”

He was silent for a moment. Then he said, softly, “You belong because I said so.”

The words hung in the air, strange and commanding, and yet they did nothing to ease the storm inside her.

“I’m not one of your business deals, Rowland.”

“I never said you were.”

“No,” she whispered. “But you treat me like one.”

Her voice cracked at the end, and she hated it. Hated that she sounded weak.

He stepped closer, close enough that she had to tilt her chin to meet his eyes.

“You’re not weak, Tinah,” he said, his voice low and sure. “You’re just… honest. Too honest for this world.”

“Then why choose me?”

A beat.

Then another.

She thought he wouldn’t answer.

But he did.

“Because I thought you’d be the one person who wouldn’t fall for me.”

She froze.

The words hit her like ice water and heat all at once.

“And if I do?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

Rowland looked away, jaw clenched. “Then this becomes more dangerous than I intended.”

Silence stretched between them, but it was anything but empty. It buzzed with everything unsaid.

Tinah swallowed the lump in her throat. “What exactly are you afraid of, Rowland?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he took a slow breath and stepped back.

“I’ll be out late tomorrow. Dinner with a board member’s family. You’ll come with me.”

Her eyes widened. “To meet your business partners?”

“They’ll want to see the new Mrs. Terry. Wear something formal. Understated. I’ll have Danvers send options.”

Just like that, the cold was back. The wall rebuilt.

He turned and walked to the door.

But just before he opened it, he paused, glancing back.

“You don’t have to fit in here, Tinah. Just don’t disappear.”

Then he left.

And Tinah, standing in the middle of the elegant room in an outfit that wasn’t hers, felt something dangerous flutter in her chest.

It wasn’t fear.

It wasn’t anger.

It was the beginning of curiosity.

And maybe—just maybe—the start of something even more complicated.