Chapter 5
1121 Words
The Cold War Begins
LILA
I used to think heartbreak changed into loud. That while someone hurts you, it'd experience a gunshot to the chest, sharp, explosive, an ache that knocks the wind out of you. But the reality? Real heartbreak is silent. It creeps up on you, curls around your ribs like a vice, and steals the breath out of your lungs without caution.
That’s how I felt as I lay on a mattress that morning, looking at the ceiling, replaying James’s phrases over and over.
"We’re maintaining it."
Three words.
Three simple words that had shackled me to a person I by no means wanted to be tied to.
I have to have fought tougher. I ought to have screamed at him, instructed him to become my body, my preference. But the moment I noticed the finality in his expression, I knew it wouldn’t rely. James Sinclair was not the type of man who negotiated.
And now? I was trapped.
Trapped with a man who didn’t love me. Trapped in a marriage that wasn’t real. Trapped in a lifestyle I had never selected.
A sharp knock on my bedroom door broke me from my mind. I grew to become my head simply as the door creaked open, revealing James standing in the doorway.
Dressed in his ordinary 3-piece match, he appeared every bit the effective CEO pristine, managed, and completely indifferent. If the night earlier had affected him in any manner, he didn’t show it.
"I want you downstairs in fifteen minutes," he said, his voice without emotion. "We have a public look to make."
I blinked at him, my mind nonetheless gradual from the emotional exhaustion. "A public appearance?"
He leaned in opposition to the doorframe, crossing his hands. "The media got wind of your pregnancy. If we don’t get it beforehand, they’ll spin their own tale."
Of path. This wasn’t about me or the child. This became approximately him. About his recognition.
I let loose a humorless snort. "So this is the way it’s going to be? I’m simply another PR flow for you?"
His jaw clenched barely, but he didn’t deny it.
"Get ready, Lila," he said as a substitute, then grew to become on his heels and walked away.
I stared at the empty doorway long after he was long past, my heart hammering with frustration.
Fifteen minutes. That’s all I had to compose myself, to pretend that I wasn’t drowning.
God, how the hell had I ended up here?
THE EVENT
The venue became extravagant, packed with high-profile executives, socialites, and photographers desperate for the following massive headline. The second James and I stepped out of the auto, digital camera flashes erupted around us like a dazzling typhoon.
I forced a smile, gripping James’s arm as he guided me internally. My skin burned in when he touched me, but no longer in the way it should. Not with warmth. Not with choice. But with resentment.
"Smile, Lila," James murmured, his voice simply low enough for me to pay attention. "We need to look happy."
I wanted to snap at him, to tell him I wasn’t his puppet. Rather, I tightened my grip on his arm and plastered the maximum impressive smile I could muster.
The questions came quickly.
"Mr. Sinclair, how do you feel about becoming a father?"
"Mrs. Sinclair, will this be planned, or is this a marvel?"
"Will this affect your function in the company?"
James spoke back every query with practiced ease, his responses clean and calculated. Meanwhile, I stood beside him, feeling like a prop in my existence.
Then came the query that made my blood run cold.
"Some resources declare this pregnancy is a lure to steady your marriage, Mr. Sinclair. Care to comment?"
Silence.
I stiffened beside James, my pulse hammering in my ears. I waited for him to correct them, to shield me. To say something.
But rather, he smirked. Smirked.
"I assume time will inform," he stated easily.
Laughter rippled through the gang, however I felt like I had been punched inside the intestine.
That bastard.
He didn’t guard me. He didn’t even bother to shut down the speculation. He let them consider that I had somehow trapped him.
I yanked my arm free and turned to glare at him, but he was already moving me closer to the VIP section, absolutely unfazed.
"I hate you," I hissed under my breath.
He didn’t even blink. "You’ll survive."
AFTERMATH
The occasion dragged on for hours, each second suffocating me further. By the time we subsequently got lower back to the mansion, I was seconds faraway from exploding.
The second the doorways closed at the back of us, I spun to stand him.
"What the hell became that?" I snapped. "You let them suppose I’m a few manipulative gold-diggers!"
James loosened his tie, exhaling sharply. "And? Why does it count?"
My fingers clenched into fists. "Because it’s not authentic! You know damn properly I never desired this marriage!"
He leaned against the wall, looking at me with unreadable eyes. "The world believes what I tell them to agree with, Lila. And right now, I don’t owe them any evidence."
My vision blurred with fury. "You don’t owe them anything, however what about me? Do you even care how this impacts me? How did it make me look?"
He tilted his head as if considering my words. Then, with a casual shrug, he stated, "You’re my wife, Lila. What people think about you is a reflection of me. So no, I don’t care."
I sucked in a sharp breath, my heart pounding.
I had a concept that perhaps, just perhaps, James might attempt. That he could at least make an effort to act like he gave a damn.
But this?
This became worse than hatred. This becomes indifference.
Something internal in me cracked.
"You recognize what?" I whispered, my voice shaking. "You can manage the whole lot, James. But you may in no way manage me."
For the first time that night time, something flickered in his gaze. Something dark. Something dangerous.
"Are you sure about that?" he murmured.
My belly twisted, however, I pressured myself to keep his stare.
"I will leave you," I stated, my voice constant no matter the storm raging inside me. "The moment I can. And there’s not a rattling factor you could do to stop me."
His smirk returned, slow and understanding. "We’ll see approximately that."
And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, my fists clenched, my coronary heart hammering, and the bitter flavor of warfare settling on my tongue.
This wasn’t just a marriage anymore.
It becomes a battlefield.
And I became determined now not to lose.
- Writer
