Chapter 2
838 Words
Chapter Two: The Distance Between Us
POV: Jeremy Sanchez
“She’s supposed to be my wife. So why does it feel like I just invited a weapon into my house?”
The moon cast silver bars across the bedroom floor.
Stella hadn’t changed out of her wedding dress.
She stood by the far window, arms folded, head tilted, silent. Her veil was gone. Her hair had been pinned up earlier, but now strands were falling, curling against her neck like they'd lost interest in perfection.
I should’ve said something, offered a glass of champagne. Asked if she wanted help unzipping the dress.
Instead, I leaned against the doorway, watching her like a man too afraid to cross a line.
She turned first.
“So,” she said flatly, “are we going to pretend this is normal, or do you just enjoy awkward silences?”
I smirked. “You married me, not a stand-up comedian.”
Her eyes narrowed. “God forbid you be both rich and tolerable.”
I stepped farther into the room, rolled up my sleeves. “We don’t need to like each other, Stella. We just need to survive six months.”
“And then what?” she asked.
I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I moved to the closet, pulled off my jacket, and hung it up with military precision.
“Then,” I said, “you walk away with your payout. Debt-free. Set for life.”
She didn’t smile.
“What if I don’t want the money?”
I froze halfway through unbuttoning my shirt. “Then what the hell are you doing here?”
She crossed the room slowly, deliberately, stopping just a few feet from me.
“You’re not the only one playing the long game, Jeremy.”
My throat tightened. “What does that mean?”
She looked up at me with calm, lethal green eyes. “It means you should stop assuming you’re the only one in control.”
I held her gaze. “You think this is a game?”
“No,” she said. “I think it’s a transaction. And I always get the better end of those.”
She turned, unzipped the dress herself, and let it fall like it didn’t cost five thousand dollars. Like it meant nothing.
Then she walked into the bathroom and shut the door. Hard.
I sat on the edge of the bed, shirt half open, pulse uneven.
She wasn’t bluffing. She hadn’t been since the moment she looked at me in that chapel and whispered, You won’t see it coming.
And the worst part? She meant it.
---
Fifteen minutes later, she reemerged in silk pajamas, modest, navy blue, buttoned to the collar. A suit of armor in fabric form.
She walked past me, hair damp, and climbed into the bed without a word.
I slipped in beside her minutes later, maintaining a buffer of untouched mattress between us.
Darkness settled in the room like fog.
“You still don’t remember what you did, do you?” she asked suddenly.
I didn’t move. “What are you talking about?”
“High school.”
My jaw tightened. “You’re seriously holding on to that?”
She laughed once, no humor in it. “You act like it was a joke. Like it didn’t shape how I saw myself for years.”
“I didn’t even know it was you,” I muttered.
“That’s exactly the point.”
I turned toward her. “You think I ruined your life?”
“I think,” she said softly, “you enjoyed watching it burn.”
A pause, then her voice turned ice-cold. “Sleep tight, Jeremy.”
I didn’t sleep, not because of guilt but because she was right about one thing. I wasn’t in control anymore.
---
The next morning, I woke to find her already dressed, sitting by the window with a cup of coffee in hand. Her posture was elegant. Effortless. Dangerous.
She didn’t look at me when she spoke. “You should tell me what the rest of the contract says.”
I froze mid-stretch. “Excuse me?”
She turned her head slightly. “The part about the heir.”
My stomach dropped. “Who told you?”
She smiled. “Your mother talks more than you do.”
I exhaled. “It’s a clause. Not a requirement.”
“But if you don’t fulfill it…” she said, trailing off.
I didn’t answer.
She sipped her coffee. “And here I was thinking I only had to survive the marriage. But apparently, I also have to breed a mare for a billionaire.”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
She stood, set the cup down, and walked toward me.
“Let me make something clear, Jeremy. If you want an heir…” She stopped inches from my chest. “…you’ll have to earn it.”
Stella knows about the heir clause and she's not scared. She’s issuing the first real threat, face to face.
- Writer
