Chapter 3: The Rules of Power
1948 Words
Part 1: Ice in the Bedroom, Fire in the Boardroom
The first night in the penthouse was quiet. Too quiet.
No humming traffic. No distant barking dogs. No Ethan’s coughs or late-night cartoons to break the stillness.
Just silence.
I sat cross-legged on the king-sized bed, surrounded by sheets that smelled like lavender and expensive nothingness. There were no photos on the nightstands. No signs of life beyond perfection.
This wasn’t a home. It was a display case.
And I was the newest ornament.
Suddenly, the door creaked open, and Liam stepped in. No knock. No warning.
He was dressed in a black shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing strong, veined forearms. His jaw was sharp enough to cut glass. But his eyes…
Those eyes held oceans. Cold ones.
“I need to lay some rules,” he said, not even greeting me.
I blinked. “I figured that much.”
He didn’t smile. “Rule one: No falling in love. Don’t mistake this arrangement for anything romantic.”
“Trust me,” I said, voice dry. “You’re not my type.”
He raised an eyebrow, mildly amused.
“Rule two: In public, we are the perfect couple. Smiles. Touches. Convincing enough to fool the press.”
I nodded slowly. “And in private?”
His gaze darkened.
“In private, we’re nothing. No expectations. No questions.”
I wanted to ask a dozen questions right then. Like: Who hurt you? Why are you doing this? What are you hiding behind that steel mask?
But I kept my mouth shut.
For now.
“Rule three,” he continued. “Don’t try to access the east wing of the penthouse.”
That startled me.
“Why not?”
“No questions,” he repeated, voice icy.
I folded my arms. “You just love being mysterious, don’t you?”
His lips twitched. Almost a smirk. Almost.
Then he left without another word.
And I was alone again—with more questions than when he came in.
-------
Part 2: The Other Blackwood
Three days passed.
Three days of rehearsing my role. Of dressing in silks and diamonds I didn’t pick, smiling for cameras I didn’t want to see, and pretending to be the adored wife of a man who wouldn’t even look me in the eye unless an investor was watching.
But this morning felt different.
Liam had called for a “family brunch.”
I didn’t know what that meant until I stepped onto the sunlit balcony garden of the penthouse and saw him—another Liam.
Only… he wasn’t Liam.
He looked like him. A near copy. But softer. Warmer. His smile didn’t look forced. His eyes weren’t cold steel.
He stood beside a glass table, sipping orange juice, wearing a light blue shirt with the top two buttons undone, revealing a necklace.
And when he saw me, he grinned.
“So, you’re the wife my brother bought.”
I froze. “Excuse me?”
He laughed. “Relax. It’s just a joke. Sort of.”
Liam stepped out right behind me, eyes narrowed. “Aiden. Don’t.”
Aiden. His younger brother.
Twin, maybe?
Liam and Aiden stood side by side now—same build, same cheekbones, same angular jaw—but a world apart in energy.
Where Liam was winter, Aiden was spring.
“Nice to meet you, Amelia,” Aiden said, pulling out a chair for me. “I’ve been dying to see the woman who got him to finally put a ring on it—even if it’s a PR stunt.”
Liam shot him a glare sharp enough to kill. “That’s enough.”
“I’m just saying,” Aiden continued, looking at me. “It’s refreshing to see a woman with fire in her eyes around here. Most of his assistants walk like they’re afraid to breathe.”
I didn’t know whether to thank him or run.
I sat. Cautiously.
“So…” I began, trying to break the tension. “You two are brothers?”
Aiden chuckled. “Twins, actually. I got the charm, and he got the bank account.”
Liam didn’t laugh. “He also got the irresponsibility.”
Aiden just winked at me and poured me a mimosa.
I looked at Liam. “You didn’t tell me you had a brother.”
“You didn’t ask,” he said flatly.
The brunch was delicious and awkward. Fresh berries, Belgian waffles, rich coffee—and enough tension to fry an egg.
Still, I couldn’t stop watching Aiden.
He looked at me like he saw me. Like he knew I didn’t belong in this marble palace but also didn’t judge me for it.
And when he smiled at me, I felt something I hadn’t felt in days.
Warmth.
---
Later that day, something happened that changed everything.
The tabloids published our first official photos.
“Liam Blackwood and Mystery Bride: Secret Vegas Wedding Confirmed!”
Suddenly, everyone wanted to know who I was.
Social media went wild. The office buzzed with curiosity. Even Veronica stormed into the top floor, red heels clicking like bullets, slapping the magazine onto Liam’s desk.
“She’s a nobody!” she hissed. “And you want us to believe she’s Mrs. Blackwood?”
I was there. I saw it happen.
Liam didn’t blink.
“She’s my wife. You have a problem with that?”
Veronica looked at me like I was a cockroach on designer carpet.
“She’s a gold-digger.”
I stepped forward. “Actually, I prefer the term survivor.”
That shut her up—for now.
---
That night, I broke a rule.
I wandered into the east wing.
The hallway was dim, unlike the rest of the well-lit palace. The air felt cooler. Quieter. Like it hadn’t been disturbed in years.
I passed closed doors. Velvet drapes. A faint smell of roses and dust.
And then I saw it.
A door slightly open. Inside—a nursery.
Soft toys. A rocking chair. A crib.
Everything was covered in white sheets, untouched.
Something inside me twisted.
A baby?
Did Liam have a child?
Before I could step further, a shadow loomed behind me.
“What the hell are you doing?” Liam’s voice was low. Deadly.
I turned slowly.
“I—I was lost.”
He didn’t believe me. His jaw clenched.
“You don’t come here. Ever.”
I swallowed. “Was this… was this your child’s room?”
His eyes turned to ice.
“Go to your room.”
“I deserve to know—”
“I said GO!”
His voice thundered through the hallway, and for the first time, I felt fear.
Not of him—but of what he’d buried.
What had he lost?
And why did he build a cage of cold to keep everyone out?
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Part 3: Cracks Beneath the marble
I couldn’t sleep.
The echo of Liam’s voice still bounced off the walls of my memory. The way his eyes changed—like a storm brewing behind a frozen lake.
He wasn’t just hiding something.
He was bleeding silently behind that perfect mask.
I found myself staring at the ceiling in the dark, wondering what kind of man sets up a nursery... and then buries it in silence.
Had he lost a child?
A wife?
Or… was there someone still alive he couldn’t let go of?
The next morning, I walked into the office with questions swirling in my head. But something else pulled my attention first.
Veronica.
She was already waiting at the receptionist’s desk, a designer purse hooked over her wrist and a smug smile glued to her face.
“Coffee, Amelia?” she asked sweetly. “Or do you only fetch it when you’re not pretending to be Mrs. Blackwood?”
I met her gaze. “You sound bitter. Was it hard losing your seat at Liam’s table?”
Her smile faltered just enough to give me satisfaction.
“You think this charade will last?” she whispered as we entered the elevator together. “You’re temporary. We both know that.”
“I know something you don’t,” I replied, tilting my head. “I may be temporary—but I’m legally temporary.”
That shut her up for a second. But Veronica wasn’t the type to retreat easily.
She smirked. “We’ll see how long you last when the truth comes out.”
“What truth?”
She leaned in.
“The one about who you really are.”
I kept my face neutral. But inside, my pulse jumped.
What did she know?
---
Back in the office, Liam acted like nothing happened.
No mention of the nursery. No apology. No explanation.
He was a fortress again—cold, untouchable, mechanical.
“Your job this week,” he said, without looking up from his tablet, “is to accompany me to the Hartley Gala.”
I blinked. “That’s the charity event with the big press turnout, right?”
He nodded. “Which means you'll need to play the role convincingly. Charm. Elegance. And no mistakes.”
“Great,” I said. “Sounds like a fun evening pretending I belong.”
His eyes flicked up briefly. “You do belong. As long as you remember why you’re there.”
“And why am I there, exactly?” I asked.
His fingers froze mid-scroll.
“To protect me,” he said, “from the people who want to destroy everything I’ve built.”
He said it like it was a fact. Like he had enemies hiding in the marble.
And I didn’t doubt it.
---
That afternoon, I got a message from Aiden.
Aiden: Lunch? Just us two? I promise not to talk about my brooding brother.
Me: Tempting. But if Liam finds out—
Aiden: Let me worry about Liam. You need a break from that iceberg.
I surprised myself by saying yes.
We met at a small bistro in downtown Manhattan—far away from the towering Blackwood Empire. Aiden wore sunglasses and a baseball cap. I wore a scarf and kept my head low.
We could’ve been anyone.
And for once, I wasn’t “Mrs. Blackwood.”
I was just Amelia.
“Thanks for this,” I said, sipping on lemon water. “I haven’t breathed fresh air in days.”
He smiled. “You look more alive today than you did at brunch.”
“That’s because you’re not barking orders at me.”
He laughed. “Is he that bad?”
I paused. “No. He’s worse.”
Aiden leaned forward. “He wasn’t always like this, you know. There was a time Liam actually smiled without calculating the cost.”
I stared. “What happened?”
Aiden hesitated.
“There was… someone. A woman. She was pregnant. And then—” He stopped himself. “He never talks about it.”
My heart dropped.
The nursery. The silence. The pain.
It made sense now.
“He lost them?” I asked softly.
Aiden looked away. “Let’s just say… after that, Liam buried the part of himself that felt.”
I sat back, stunned.
“And you?” I asked. “Why are you still here? Playing charming brother in the shadows?”
He smiled sadly. “Because I owe him everything. Even if he’s forgotten how to love.”
We ate in silence after that.
But something shifted between us.
Aiden wasn’t just a flirt. He was a witness to Liam’s broken heart.
And the way he looked at me now… like he wished he could steal me away from all of it.
To be continued...
- Writer
