Chapter 4 — The Public Wife
1738 Words
The day of the press conference arrived with more cameras than air.
From the window of the black Rolls-Royce, Ella could see the crowd gathered outside the glass building. Reporters stood close, like vultures waiting for something to happen, their microphones aimed toward the entrance where the world’s newest billionaire marriage would make its grand debut.
Her hands were damp. “I can’t do this,” she whispered.
Adrian didn’t look up from his phone. “Yes, you can.”
“I’m not built for media lights and fake smiles.”
“Then pretend you are.”
She turned sharply toward him. “You make it sound easy.”
“It is,” he said, finally looking at her. His eyes—cool, steel-grey—softened just a little. “Smile when they look at you. Stand close to me. Don’t answer anything I don’t first respond to. And whatever happens, don’t let them see fear.”
Her throat tightened. “That’s your rule for everything, isn’t it? Don’t let them see fear.”
Adrian didn’t answer. But his jaw tightened, and for a heartbeat, she thought she saw something like understanding flicker there.
When the driver opened the door, flashes exploded instantly. The roar of questions filled the air—a storm of noise and light.
“Mr. Stone! How long have you known her?”
“Is it true you met through a private agency?”
“Mrs. Stone! Were you one of his employees?”
The last one hit hard. Ella froze, caught off guard, until Adrian’s arm slid around her waist—firm, possessive, grounding.
“She’s my wife,” he said coolly, his voice sharp enough to cut through the chaos. “That’s all you need to know.”
The cameras went wild.
Ella blinked against the flashes, forcing a polite smile. Adrian guided her through the crowd, every movement calculated—his hand steady on her back, his posture protective but detached. He didn’t look at her, but his grip never faltered.
Inside, the conference room was an ocean of sleek lines and cold light. A banner read STONE INDUSTRIES & CO. — BUILDING THE FUTURE, TOGETHER.
Irony at its finest.
They sat at a long glass table. Reporters filled every seat, recorders already running. Adrian spoke first, his tone crisp and controlled. “Thank you all for coming. As you know, I recently married. My wife, Ella Stone, will be joining me in representing Stone Industries in our upcoming global expansion.”
Applause. Cameras. Questions.
“Mrs. Stone,” one woman said, smiling too brightly, “you seem rather new to the public eye.
How does it feel stepping into such a powerful role overnight?”
Ella’s pulse raced. She remembered Adrian’s warning—don’t speak first—but something in the woman’s tone made her straighten her shoulders.
“It feels…” she began slowly, choosing her words, “like stepping into a world that doesn’t stop spinning. But I’m learning to keep my balance.”
A few soft laughs. Even Adrian’s gaze flicked toward her, faintly impressed.
Another reporter raised his hand. “Mr. Stone, your reputation has been—well—colorful. Should the public expect a reformed man now that you’re married?”
Adrian’s expression didn’t change. “They should expect results. My personal life doesn’t affect my business performance.”
“Then why get married at all?”
someone else called out.
The air in the room shifted—tension thick and sharp.
Adrian’s hand found Ella’s under the table, his thumb brushing once across her knuckles. “Because I wanted to,” he said simply, eyes locked on hers. “And I don’t make decisions I don’t mean.”
For a second, everything stilled. Ella’s heart fluttered—an involuntary, dangerous reaction.
He didn’t release her hand until the conference ended.
Back in the car, Ella slumped against the seat, exhaling hard. “Do they ever stop asking questions?”
“Not until they get an answer that ruins you,” Adrian said, loosening his tie. “That’s why I don’t give them one.”
She turned to him. “You really don’t care what they think, do you?”
He gave a short, humorless laugh. “If I did, I wouldn’t be who I am.”
For a while, the only sound was the hum of the city outside. Then, softly, she said, “You know, you were good in there.”
His brow lifted slightly. “Good?”
“You defended me.”
He looked out the window. “That wasn’t defending. That was strategy.”
“Strategy,” she repeated with a faint smile. “Right.”
But when she looked down, she realized his hand was still resting over hers—steady, unthinking, almost protective.
He noticed it too. And for a long second, neither of them moved.
By evening, the internet had transformed their press conference into a chaotic event.
Ella sat on the edge of the bed, scrolling through headlines she didn’t want to see.
“Mystery Woman Marries Billionaire Adrian Stone — Who Is Ella?”
“Cinderella or Contract?
Inside the Shocking Stone Marriage”
“Sources Say She’s From a Working-Class Background — Scandal or Fairytale?”
She placed the phone down on the mattress and pressed a hand to her forehead. “They’re tearing me apart already.”
Adrian’s voice came from the doorway. “Then stop reading.”
She looked up. He was leaning casually against the doorframe, his jacket off and shirt sleeves rolled up, appearing completely calm despite the chaos surrounding them.
“You don’t even care, do you?”
she whispered.
“I care about the merger closing on time,” he replied. “The rest is noise.”
“Noise?” She stood up, her eyes flashing with emotion. “They’re calling me a gold digger!”
He stepped into the room, his expression unreadable. “Then stop proving them right by letting it get to you.”
Her jaw dropped. “Unbelievable.”
She turned to leave, but his voice — low, controlled, and edged with something dangerous — stopped her.
“Ella.”
Something about the way he said her name made her turn back.
He moved closer, slowly, until there was barely a breath between them. “I don’t care what they say— I know the truth. You married me for a reason, and I married you for mine. That’s all that matters.”
She swallowed hard. “And what is your reason, exactly?”
His gaze dropped briefly to her lips, then back to her eyes. “You’ll figure it out eventually.”
Before she could respond, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, sighed, and straightened. “Get dressed. We’re going to the Gala.”
“What Gala?”
“The one my PR team thinks will make us look ‘deeply in love,’” he said with a tone of sarcasm.
The gala was exactly what Ella had expected — chandeliers, champagne, diamonds, and too many fake smiles hiding real lies.
They entered holding hands, and cameras flashed again. Adrian looked perfect, his expression as unreadable as ever. She followed his lead, smiling when he smiled, waving when he waved.
But she could feel eyes on her. Whispers.
Every woman seemed to be watching her with a mix of curiosity and envy; every man looked at her like she was a temporary attraction.
Near the bar, a blonde woman in a red dress approached — tall, polished, and confident.
“Adrian,” she purred, kissing him lightly on the cheek. “It’s been ages.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened. “Vanessa.”
Ella immediately recognized her — Vanessa Hale, the PR executive who had once been rumored to be Adrian’s lover.
Vanessa turned to her with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “And this must be the new Mrs. Stone.”
Ella forced a polite nod. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” Vanessa said sweetly. “Tell me, dear — how does it feel stepping into shoes that big?”
“Comfortable,” Ella replied with a calm smile. “They fit better than expected.”
For a moment, Vanessa’s expression faltered. Adrian’s lips curved slightly — not with amusement, but with something that felt like pride.
“Excuse us,” he said, his hand at Ella’s waist again, steering her away.
The moment they were out of earshot, she whispered, “That was your ex, wasn’t it?”
He didn’t answer right away. “One of them.”
She shot him a look. “You’re charming.”
“I was honest.”
Before she could retort, a man stepped into their path — tall, dark-haired, with a grin that seemed effortless. “Adrian Stone,” he said, extending a hand. “Haven’t seen you since the Monaco deal.”
Adrian shook it. “Harris.”
Then the man’s gaze shifted to Ella, lingering a little too long. “And who might this stunning woman be?”
Adrian’s hand tightened slightly on her waist. “My wife.”
“Lucky man,” Harris said smoothly, raising his glass. “If you ever get tired of boardrooms, Mrs. Stone, I’m always available for more… casual company.”
Ella blinked, caught off guard — but before she could respond, Adrian’s voice cut through the air like steel.
“She won’t need your company. Ever.”
The room around them seemed to fall silent for a moment. Harris chuckled awkwardly and moved on, but the tension didn’t fade.
Ella turned to Adrian. “What was that?”
His jaw was tight, eyes dark. “That was me reminding people what’s mine.”
Her chest tightened. “I’m not a thing you own.”
His gaze met hers — intense, unwavering. “Then stop letting men talk to you like one.”
They stared at each other — fire meeting ice — until she finally looked away.
Later that night, when the gala lights dimmed and the city glittered far below their penthouse, Ella replayed that moment in her head.
Not the jealousy.
Not the words.
But the way he’d said mine — not with arrogance, but with something raw, almost protective.
And for the first time since signing the contract, she wasn’t sure if she was pretending anymore.
- Writer
