BOUND TO HER
1027 Words
Richard’s POV
I sat alone in my office, the kind of alone that echoes not from the absence of people, but the weight of thoughts. The late afternoon sun had started dipping behind the skyscrapers, bleeding orange and gold across the glass windows, but I saw none of it. My gaze was fixed on the photo frame Chloe had placed on my desk weeks ago, a candid shot of the two of us on our honeymoon in Capri. Her eyes sparkled like they held the whole ocean, and her smile… God, that smile. Back then, I believed I had finally found peace, a soft landing after years of ruthless ambition and calculated living. But now… peace felt like a distant memory.
She’d changed.
No, not on the surface, she was still effortlessly elegant, still walked like she knew the world owed her reverence. But beneath the velvet exterior, there was something steely, determined. That look in her eyes when she stepped into the boardroom for the first time as Mrs. Richard White. it wasn’t just pride. It was conquest. A quiet thunderstorm behind a Mona Lisa smile.
And I wasn’t stupid. I’d seen the way Lyon looked at her that day, like a ghost from his past had come to strangle him in broad daylight. He had barely spoken during the board meeting, his fingers twitching nervously, stealing glances at her as though trying to decode a prophecy. But what shook me more wasn’t Lyon. It was Chloe, how calm she remained under his gaze, not flinching, not folding, as if she had rehearsed it all in her mind a thousand times before walking in.
Who was this woman I married?
I thought I saved her. That’s what I told myself when I first found her, all alone in that hotel lounge, eyes red from silent grief, wearing a dress far too glamorous for someone so broken. She didn’t ask me for anything, not even sympathy. She carried her pain like it's nothing and still managed to make me laugh within ten minutes of knowing her. I was drawn to her strength, but I never guessed that her strength came laced with secrets.
There’s a fine line between mystery and deception, and lately, Chloe walks that line with grace.
My phone buzzed on the desk. A message from Gerald,my private investigator.
“Need to see you. It’s about Chloe. Call me ASAP.”
I didn’t move. My chest tightened, and the office suddenly felt claustrophobic. Gerald doesn’t exaggerate. If he says it’s serious, then it’s beyond serious.
I let out a slow breath, reached for the glass of scotch I’d poured an hour ago, and finally stood. I needed air, or maybe I needed to run. But what good would that do? Whatever truth was waiting, I had to face it. I owed myself that much.
As I stepped out of the elevator into the underground parking, I saw her, Chloe. She hadn’t noticed me yet. She was standing beside her car, phone pressed to her ear, her expression sharp, too sharp. Her voice wasn’t raised, but it had that undertone of threat; the kind of tone a woman uses when she’s delivering a warning with a lace of civility.
“Tell him I don’t care what it costs,” she said. “Just make sure she’s discredited. I want her humiliated, not just broken.”
I froze.
She? Was it Sherry she was talking about? Or someone else?
My heart pounded like a war drum as I took a cautious step back, retreating into the shadows. For a moment, I didn’t recognize the woman I was watching. This wasn’t the Chloe I fell in love with; this was a tactician, a woman on a mission, and whoever stood in her way was clearly going to bleed.
When she ended the call, she exhaled deeply and leaned against the car for a moment. For the first time, I saw something else, exhaustion. Like even the predator gets tired of the hunt sometimes.
I waited until she drove off before stepping out. My hands were shaking slightly, something that hadn’t happened to me in years, not even during million-dollar mergers or cutthroat boardroom deals. I was always in control. Always composed. But Chloe had flipped something inside me, something raw.
Gerald was waiting for me at my private suite downtown. When I arrived, he handed me a file without a word.
Inside were photos, Chloe and Lyon. Not recent. From years ago. Intimate. Happy. A timeline of a love story gone wrong. But the last photo stopped my breath, it was Chloe, entering a clinic. The timestamp? Just months before I met her.
Pregnancy center.
I sank into the leather chair like my legs had given way. My mind whirled with questions, doubts, pain. Was she ever going to tell me? Was I just another chess piece in her grand design?
“I dug deep,” Gerald said quietly. “She left town five years ago pregnant. But there’s no record of a child. No birth certificate. Nothing.”
I nodded slowly, my jaw tight. That meant only two possibilities, either she lost the baby… or something far more complicated was at play.
“Did Lyon know?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
Gerald gave me a look. “He found out recently. That’s why he’s been spiraling.”
The betrayal hit me like ice water.
All this time, I thought I was the center of Chloe’s new life. That she chose me. But maybe… maybe I was just her weapon of choice. Maybe she married me to get close, to reignite the ghosts she left behind. And I let her. I let her into my world, my home, my heart. I gave her everything; my name, my trust, my damn soul.
And now, I had to ask myself: What does Chloe really want?
Because if her goal was revenge on Lyon, on Sherry, on the world that broke her, then I wasn’t just her husband.
I was her war.
And I didn’t know whether to fight alongside her… or against her.
To be continued!
- Writer
