Chapter3
1094 Words
Chapter Three: Enemies Don’t Knock
POV: Stella Anderson
“You want to play this marriage like a business deal, Jeremy? Fine. Just don’t forget who you’re negotiating with.”
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“You didn’t sleep,” Jeremy said the moment I stepped into the kitchen.
I didn’t answer right away. I poured coffee. Sat at the bar. Met his eyes over the rim of the cup.
“Neither did you,” I replied.
“I don’t sleep next to strangers.”
“Good,” I said. “Then get used to it.”
He smirked, lifting his own mug. “This is off to a great start.”
Silence fell again. It was always like that between us—bursts of fire and long stretches of ice. He looked perfect this morning, as usual. Black shirt. No tie. Rolex peeking from under his cuff. Like he hadn’t married someone he couldn’t stand just twelve hours ago.
I stared at him. “Are we really doing the move today?”
“My mother arranged everything. Movers arrive at noon. Photographers at one.”
“You invited press?”
He sipped his coffee. “Of course. What’s the point of a fake marriage if no one’s watching?”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”
“No,” he said, setting the mug down. “I’m practical.”
I stood. “Where’s the address?”
He tapped his phone, and a second later mine buzzed.
“I’ll meet you there,” I said.
“Not riding together?” he asked.
“We’re married, not friends.”
---
The new house was modern and cold, like him. Glass walls. White floors. A marble staircase too wide for a home.
I arrived first.
The driver left. I walked in. Everything was already arranged, furniture, candles, staged like a magazine shoot. Too perfect.
I heard footsteps behind me.
“Nice, isn’t it?” Jeremy’s voice was low, amused.
I turned. “For a museum, sure.”
“It’s just a house, Stella.”
“No,” I said. “It’s a mask.”
He raised an eyebrow. “A little dramatic for someone who signed the same contract.”
I stepped toward him. “Don’t pretend you’re not hiding something.”
He tilted his head. “Like what?”
“Let’s start with this,” I pulled the folded note from my purse—the one I found yesterday, stashed in the guest room drawer.
He froze.
I held it up. “Make sure she doesn’t see the paperwork? No copies? Do it face-to-face only?”
He snatched the note from my hand. “Where did you get this?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes,” he snapped. “It wasn’t meant for you.”
“Obviously,” I said. “Who was it for? Your lawyer? Your cousin?”
Jeremy’s jaw clenched. “You’re looking in the wrong direction.”
“Am I?” I asked. “Or are you just mad I found it before your little secret blew up?”
He stepped forward. “You think I’m hiding something from you?”
“You are hiding something,” I said. “That clause—about the heir? That wasn’t in the prenup. Your mother let it slip.”
“That’s none of your concern.”
“It is now,” I snapped. “You married me under false terms.”
He narrowed his eyes. “And you married me for a check.”
We stood toe to toe. No space. No lies.
I didn’t blink. “That check doesn’t include my womb.”
He didn’t move. “I never asked you for that.”
“Not yet,” I said. “But you will.”
---
The front door opened. We both turned. A new voice filled the foyer.
“Well, if it isn’t the happy couple.”
I stiffened. Jeremy didn’t move.
It was Tristan. He walked in like he owned the place. Sharp suit. That fake-charming smile. The kind that never reached his eyes.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Just checking on my family,” he said. “You moved in fast.”
“We’re efficient,” Jeremy said tightly.
Tristan chuckled. “I’ll say. You’ve been married less than forty-eight hours and already making headlines.”
“Get to the point,” Jeremy said.
Tristan shrugged. “Relax. I just came to drop off a gift.”
He handed me a velvet box. I opened it slowly. Inside, baby shoes. White. Silk. Tiny.
My stomach turned. “What the hell is this?” I asked.
“A wish,” Tristan said with a grin. “For a swift heir.”
Jeremy lunged but I grabbed his arm before he could swing.
“Not here,” I hissed.
Tristan didn’t flinch. He smiled wider, “Take care, newlyweds,” he said, and walked out without another word.
---
The moment the door closed, I turned on Jeremy. “What was that?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “He’s trying to get under our skin.”
“It’s working.”
Jeremy exhaled. “He wants me to lose control.”
“Then don’t,” I snapped. “Because the minute you do, he wins.”
He looked at me like he didn’t recognize me. “You’re surprisingly good at this.”
“At what?”
“Playing the part,” he said. “Like you’ve done it before.”
I stepped past him, toward the staircase. “Keep underestimating me, Jeremy. I dare you.”
---
Later, when the movers left and the press had finished snapping fake-laugh photos of us on the balcony, I finally had a minute to myself.
I slipped into the guest room. Shut the door. Sat on the edge of the bed.
Then I called Kelvin.
“Stella?” he answered immediately.
“Hey,” I said softly.
“You sound tired.”
“I am.”
“Rough honeymoon?” he teased.
I smiled, barely. “Something like that.”
“You want to talk?”
“I just wanted to hear your voice.”
He was quiet for a moment. “I’m still here. You know that, right? Even now.”
“I know.” I answered.
“You don’t have to go through this alone.”
“I’m not alone,” I said. “I’m just… surrounded.”
Another pause.
“Come see me tomorrow,” he said.
I didn’t answer but I didn’t say no either.
- Writer
