MY HUSBAND CHEATED WITH MY BEST FRIEND, I MARRIED HIS BILLIONAIRE BOSS

EPISODE 5: THE RIDE HOME

The music at the gala had not stopped, but Emma could no longer hear it.

All she could hear was the soft thud of her own heart. All she could feel was the warm spot on her hand where Alexander had kissed her knuckles in front of everyone. In front of Ryan. In front of Vanessa. In front of the entire top floor of the Grand Hotel.

Ms. Lin led her to a small round table near the large window, away from the bar, away from Ryan and Vanessa. A waiter in a black vest placed a glass of cold water in front of her without asking.

"Breathe, Mrs. Black," Ms. Lin whispered, leaning close. Her sharp eyes were softer now. "You did very well. That boy Ryan looked like he had seen a ghost. Or maybe he saw his future disappearing."

"He looked like he saw a mistake," Emma said quietly. Her hands were still shaking a little around the water glass. "His own mistake."

From across the room, she could see Alexander. He was still standing with Ryan and Michael. He was not shouting. Alexander Black never shouted. That was not his style. He spoke in a low, calm voice, and both Ryan and Michael had to lean forward to hear him. Ryan's face was pale. He kept glancing over at Emma, his eyes wide, pleading, confused. Michael looked nervous, holding his drink too tightly.

Vanessa tried to step closer to Alexander. Her bright red dress was tight and short. She smiled, touching her hair, trying to get his attention. Alexander took one small step back, creating distance between them without even looking at her face. The rejection was so clear, so cold, that two women standing nearby actually gasped and whispered to each other.

Emma felt a strange feeling rise in her chest. It was not exactly happiness. It was not sadness either. It was power. For three long months after her divorce, she had felt small and invisible. People had looked at her with pity. Now, in this midnight blue dress, with a real diamond on her neck, with the name Mrs. Black, people were looking at her with envy and respect.

After what felt like an hour but was only about five minutes, Alexander walked back to her. He did not ask if she was okay. He did not need to ask. He simply held out his hand to her, his palm open.

"Time to go home," he said.

She placed her trembling hand into his. His fingers closed around hers immediately. It was not a polite hold. It was firm. Possessive. Tight. Like he was claiming something that belonged to him.

They walked out of the Grand Hotel together. The whispers followed them all the way to the elevator, down to the lobby, and out to the street. Cameras flashed from somewhere, but Alexander did not even blink.

The black car was waiting at the curb. The driver opened the back door. Emma slid inside first, carefully holding the blue dress so it would not tear. Alexander slid in right next to her, much closer than he had sat on the way to the gala. His leg almost touched hers.

The car was silent for a long time as it pulled away from the hotel. The city lights moved past the windows again, but slower now, softer.

"You broke the rules," Emma finally said, staring out of her window so he would not see her red cheeks.

"Which rule did I break?" Alexander asked calmly.

"You kissed my hand. That was not written in the contract. The contract said we should behave like a normal married couple in public. It did not say you should kiss me like that."

Alexander was quiet for a moment. Then he made a sound that surprised Emma completely. He laughed. It was a short, low, real laugh. She had never heard him laugh before. In all the meetings at Floor 50, he had always been cold and serious.

"Behave like a normal married couple," he repeated, as if tasting the words. "My wife's former husband was staring at her as if she was still his property. What is a normal husband supposed to do in that situation? Should I just ignore him?"

"You could have ignored him," Emma said, still not looking at him.

"My father taught me one important lesson about business and about life," Alexander said, his voice lower now. "Never ignore a man who is looking at what is yours."

The air in the car suddenly felt very warm. What is yours. The words hung between them.

"I am not yours," Emma whispered. "It is just a contract. One year. Separate bedrooms. No real feelings. That is what we signed."

"Is that what you want?" He turned his body to face her fully now. In the dark car, lit only by the passing streetlights, his eyes were not cold at all. They were dark and intense and focused only on her. "Separate bedrooms? No feelings?"

Emma finally turned to face him too. The diamond on her neck caught a flash of light from outside and sparkled.

"I do not know what I want anymore," she admitted honestly. Her voice was shaking. "This morning I woke up as Emma Carter, divorced, with no money for my mother's medicine. Tonight I am Emma Black, and everyone in that room was afraid of me. Or afraid of you. It is too much for one day."

Something in his perfect, cold face softened. The mask of the billionaire boss slipped away, and for a second she saw just a man.

He reached out slowly, giving her plenty of time to move away if she wanted to. She did not move. His fingers gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His fingertips brushed against her cheek. His hand was cool, but her skin felt hot where he touched.

"You were shaking in there," he said quietly. "On stage. I saw your hand."

"I was scared," she said.

"I know," he said. "You did not have to be scared. I was right there with you. I will always be there when you need to be brave."

It was such a simple sentence. I was there. No one had said that to her in a very long time. Not since her mother got sick. When she cried after her divorce, Ryan had left the room and said she was being too emotional. When she was worried about money, Vanessa had told her to get over it.

Tears came to Emma's eyes before she could stop them. She blinked fast, trying to hold them back.

"Do not cry," Alexander said softly. "If you cry, Ms. Lin will be very angry with me. She told me that makeup took her thirty minutes to do perfectly."

Emma laughed, even with tears in her eyes. It was a real, wet laugh that came from her chest.

"You are not as cold as everyone says you are, Alexander Black," she said.

"Do not tell anyone about that," he said, a small smile appearing on his lips. "It will completely ruin my reputation as the cold boss of Floor 50."

He was still so close. His hand had moved from her cheek down to her bare shoulder. The skin of her shoulder was soft and exposed because of the dress design. His touch was very light, just his fingertips, but it felt like fire.

The car came to a smooth stop. Emma looked out the window and frowned. They were not at the Grand Hotel. They were parked in front of her old apartment building. The building with the broken elevator that always smelled like cooking oil, with the noisy pipes and the thin walls.

"Why are we here?" she asked, confused. "I thought... I thought we were going to your place."

"Because you live here," Alexander said simply. "You said you wanted separate bedrooms. You said it was just a contract. I respect contracts, Emma. I respect what my wife wants."

He got out of the car and walked around to open her door himself. He did not let the driver do it. He held out his hand to help her out of the low car in the long dress.

Emma stepped out onto the cracked sidewalk, holding the beautiful blue dress in a place where trash bags were piled near the entrance. She looked up at her tiny window on the third floor, where the light was off, and then she looked back at him, standing there in his perfect black suit that cost more than six months of her rent.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" she asked. The question surprised even her. It sounded too much like a question a real wife would ask her real husband. It sounded too soft.

Alexander looked at her for a long moment. The city wind blew a little, moving the bottom of her dress.

Then he reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and took out a small, sleek black card. It was a key card, with the logo of the Grand Hotel on it in gold letters.

"Penthouse. Top floor. Grand Hotel. It is my home," he said, placing the card into her palm and closing her fingers around it. His hand stayed wrapped around hers, warm and strong. "The second bedroom is empty. The sheets are clean. If you change your mind about separate bedrooms, or about the contract... you know exactly where to find me."

He let go of her hand slowly.

"Goodnight, Mrs. Black," he said.

He turned and walked back to the black car, leaving her standing alone on the sidewalk in front of her old building, wearing a midnight blue gown and a diamond necklace, holding a golden key to a billionaire's penthouse.

Upstairs, in her tiny, quiet apartment, her phone buzzed loudly on her small kitchen counter. It was a message from an unknown number, but she knew who it was immediately.

It was Vanessa.

The message read: Emma we need to talk. Ryan is going to lose his new job. What did you tell Alexander? He said Ryan might be fired. Please call me. We are still friends right? Please.

Emma looked at the message for a long time. Then she looked down at the black key card still held tightly in her hand. She thought about Ryan's pale face. She thought about Alexander's hand kissing hers. She thought about the words, what is yours.

She smiled. It was a slow, real, powerful smile that she had not felt in months.

She typed back only one word.

No.

Then she turned off her phone completely, placed the key card on her pillow, and fell asleep in the blue dress, dreaming not about revenge anymore, but about penthouses and cold hands that felt warm.