Chapter 3: Suspicion and Shared Walls.
1725 Words
Three days had passed since the quiet, paper-bound wedding of Ella Rose and Noah Carter. But nothing about this arrangement felt like a marriage — not the way Noah barely looked at her, nor the way he avoided shared spaces like they were cursed.
Ella spent most of her time in the guest bedroom.
She’d wake before the mansion stirred, cook breakfast to keep herself busy, and then retreat to her room where she read books or stared at the city through the glass. Noah rarely ate. Rarely spoke.
It was like living with a shadow.
---
Morning – Dining Room
Ella placed two plates on the dining table — scrambled eggs, toast, and freshly brewed coffee. She didn’t expect Noah to show, but she made it anyway.
As she turned to leave, footsteps echoed behind her.
> “You don’t have to pretend,” Noah said from the doorway, dressed in a black suit as always, cold and unreadable. “I won’t be here long.”
> “I’m not pretending. I just thought… you might eat.”
> “Don’t.”
> “Don’t what?”
> “Act like this is real.”
Ella looked at him, hurt flashing in her eyes. “You know, for a man so powerful, you sure run from anything human.”
Noah didn’t respond. He just picked up his coffee and walked out, leaving the food untouched.
---
Afternoon – Study Room
Arthur Carter stood by the tall window of the private study, eyes locked on the security footage playing on the screen before him. One camera was positioned in the hallway — and it showed something curious.
> Two doors.
Two rooms.
Ella entering one.
Noah exiting another.
Every night.
Arthur narrowed his eyes. He turned toward his assistant.
> “They’re sleeping separately?”
> “Yes, sir.”
> “That’s not marriage. That’s performance.”
---
Evening – Dinner at the Mansion
It was rare for Arthur Carter to join them twice in one week. Yet tonight, he was there — and the atmosphere was thick with scrutiny.
Noah sat at one end. Ella beside him, her dress modest, her hair loose.
> “So,” Arthur said, cutting into his steak, “how is married life treating you two?”
Ella smiled softly. “We’re adjusting.”
Arthur turned to Noah. “Adjusting is a strange word for newlyweds. I remember when your mother and I—”
> “This isn’t the 80s,” Noah interrupted, voice clipped.
Arthur raised an eyebrow. “No. It’s an age of lies dressed in designer.”
He leaned forward.
> “Tell me, where do you sleep, Ella?”
The fork in her hand froze.
> “Pardon?”
> “My question was clear.”
Noah spoke up. “That’s none of your concern.”
> “It is,” Arthur snapped. “When the heir of the Carter empire gets married and continues to live like a bachelor, it becomes very much my concern.”
Silence.
Then Ella said, carefully, “We—We have separate rooms because I snore… badly.”
Arthur’s gaze hardened. “Is that so?”
She nodded. “I offered to move. It’s temporary. We're still figuring things out.”
Arthur stood, pushing his chair back with slow intensity.
> “You have one week,” he said to Noah, voice low and sharp. “One week to convince me this isn’t a joke. Or I pull your name off every deed and contract I ever signed for you.”
And with that, he left.
---
Later That Night – Ella’s Room
Ella sat on the bed, hugging her knees, her heart pounding. The door opened suddenly.
Noah walked in without knocking, his eyes dark and burning.
> “You lied for me.”
> “I didn’t have a choice. He was going to destroy everything—”
> “I can handle my father.”
> “But I can’t handle watching you lose everything because of me,” she said softly.
A pause.
Noah glanced around the room, then at her.
> “Pack your things.”
> “What?”
> “You're moving to my room. Tonight.”
Her breath caught. “But we—We said—”
> “Now we say something else,” he said coldly. “Congratulations. You get to play the wife in full.”
---
Later – Noah’s Bedroom
Ella stood in the doorway, her bag in hand.
His room was stark — blacks and greys, clean and cold. There was a king-sized bed in the center, but no warmth. No clutter. No sign of personality.
> “You take the left side,” Noah said. “Don’t touch anything else.”
She moved slowly, placed her bag down, and slid into the bed. He changed in the bathroom, then walked to the other side without a word. He didn’t even look at her.
Lights off. Silence.
Then…
> “Why do you do it?” he asked suddenly in the dark.
> “Do what?”
> “Try so hard to care.”
Ella blinked into the darkness. “Because someone should.”
---
Midnight
Ella turned in her sleep, the sheets rustling softly. A nightmare gripped her — of her father in pain, her family’s home being taken. She whimpered softly in her sleep.
Noah turned over, half-awake, hearing the sound.
He watched her for a moment in the moonlight — her face pinched in distress, hands clutching the blanket tightly.
And though he was cold, and though he hated this situation… he reached out and gently adjusted the blanket around her shoulders.
Just once.
Then turned back around.
Noah couldn’t sleep.
He lay on his side, eyes open in the dark, staring at nothing. He could still hear Ella’s soft breathing beside him — steady now, peaceful. The warmth from her side of the bed was unfamiliar, almost unsettling.
He had built his life on silence, steel, and walls no one could climb. But here she was — soft, innocent, a girl who didn’t belong in his world but had stepped into it anyway. For her family. For a loan.
Not for him.
And maybe that’s why it bothered him.
He turned his face into the pillow with a sigh.
---
Early Morning – Same Bedroom
Ella woke to the gentle rustling of fabric. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, adjusting to the faint light creeping through the curtains.
To her surprise, Noah was standing near the window, shirtless, staring out over the city skyline. The sun outlined his frame in gold — strong shoulders, defined back, tension in every line.
He turned slightly when he sensed her gaze.
> “You’re awake,” he said, his voice hoarse from sleep but still cold.
> “Just now.” She sat up, clutching the blanket. “You… didn’t sleep much?”
> “Didn’t need to.”
> “Are you always this restless?”
> “Are you always this curious?” he shot back without looking at her.
Ella bit her lip. “Sorry.”
Noah let out a breath, ran a hand through his hair, then turned away.
> “You can sleep here. But don’t make this something it’s not.”
> “I never said it was.”
> “Good.”
He picked up his shirt and slipped it on before leaving the room in silence, like a ghost vanishing with the dawn.
---
Later – Kitchen
Ella was stirring oatmeal on the stove, wearing one of the modest pastel dresses she had unpacked. She tried to focus on the recipe she’d found online, but her mind kept drifting to last night — his sudden presence in her room, his voice in the dark, the strange gentleness of his hand adjusting her blanket.
Noah entered the kitchen, glancing briefly at her.
> “You didn’t have to cook.”
> “I know,” she said, without looking at him. “But I wanted to.”
He sat down, scrolling through his phone.
> “There’s coffee on the table,” she added softly.
He didn’t reply.
Minutes passed. Silence lingered like a thick cloud between them.
But then… he took a sip of the coffee.
Ella turned away to hide her small smile.
---
Meanwhile – Arthur Carter’s Private Office
Arthur sat at his desk, tapping a pen against his palm. He’d spent the morning reviewing the footage from inside the mansion. Nothing seemed suspicious anymore — they were in the same room now, often in the same space.
Too perfect.
> “Have someone follow them,” he said to his assistant. “Discreetly. I want to know if my son is playing a role… or if this girl is starting to break through that icy armor.”
> “Yes, sir.”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed as he looked at a printed photo of Ella clipped to the corner of a file.
> “She’s not what I expected,” he muttered. “Let’s see how long she lasts.”
---
Night – Shared Bedroom Again
That evening, Ella sat on the edge of the bed, brushing her hair with slow, thoughtful strokes. Noah entered the room, his usual brooding silence trailing behind him. He was dressed in his after-work attire — black shirt unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled to his elbows.
She glanced at him through the mirror.
> “How was work?” she asked gently.
> “Loud,” he muttered. “Annoying. Pretentious.”
> “So… normal?”
A breath of a smirk twitched at the corner of his lips. Almost.
Ella turned to him, emboldened. “You know… I read somewhere that even the coldest people have warm hearts. They’re just afraid of getting burned.”
> “Don’t quote fairy tales at me, Ella.”
> “Maybe you need one.”
He didn’t answer. Just changed into a plain black t-shirt, then moved to the bed.
As she turned off the bedside lamp and slid under the covers, the distance between them felt less like a wall tonight… and more like a bridge they didn’t know how to cross.
---
End of the chapter.
- Writer
