Reveal
759 Words
“I didn’t marry you because I wanted you,” he said, voice sharp. “I married you because I needed control over your father’s debts and your reputation. I didn’t ask for a mouthpiece.”
Her heart stung. She looked away, blinking rapidly.
“Then stop calling me your wife in public,” she muttered.
Zayn didn’t reply.
The rest of the ride passed in silence, only this time, she didn’t try to break it.
---
At the mansion…
Katriel stepped out of the car and walked up the steps, heels clicking against the marble like small declarations of war.
She barely noticed Zayn behind her until they entered the house,and he said flatly, “You’ll be attending all future business dinners.”
She turned, surprised.
“I thought I wasn’t allowed to speak.”
“You spoke,” he said, loosening his tie. “You didn’t crash the company. Congratulations.”
“That almost sounded like praise.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
She watched him disappear down the hall toward his bedroom. She stood alone in the silence for a moment, then turned and made her way back to the guest suite.
When she entered, something new sat on her nightstand.
A silk box. Inside it, a phone brand new. No note, just the glowing screen that read:
Zayn Qin: Add my number. For instructions only.
She stared at it. He hadn’t even bothered to speak to her face to face. A message. From the next room over.
So this was her life now.
---
Midnight.
Katriel tossed in bed, staring at the ceiling. The night outside was thick with fog. Her thoughts kept racing about dinner, about Zayn’s anger, about his strange silence afterwards.
She reached for the new phone and opened it, staring at the blank chat log.
One message sat unread:
Tomorrow 9AM. Come with me. Don’t be late. Wear navy.
Wear navy? Why? Was it another business thing?
As she stared at the screen, she heard a faint noise. A voice. Distant.
Zayn?
She slipped out of bed, careful not to make a sound, and tiptoed toward her door. She cracked it open.
Down the hallway, Zayn’s door was slightly ajar. His voice was low but firm , he was on a call.
She leaned closer.
“I don’t care what the Millers think. The girl is irrelevant to their plans now. I’ve already moved the shares.”
Katriel’s heart jumped.
The Millers. Her stepmother. Her family.
“...If they ask questions, tell them it was part of the settlement,” Zayn continued. “No, she doesn’t know. And she won’t. It’s cleaner this way.”
Katriel pressed a hand to her chest.
What shares? What settlement? What doesn’t she know?
She stepped back quietly, heart racing.
When she got back to her room, she locked the door.
Her marriage wasn’t just a contract.
It was a game of power, secrets, and silence.
And somehow, she was in the centre of it all without even knowing the rules.
The next morning, Katriel stood in front of the mirror again, staring at the navy-blue dress she found hanging on her closet door. Elegant. Formal. A perfect match to Zayn’s command from the night before.
“Tomorrow 9AM. Come with me. Don’t be late. Wear navy.”
Her hands were still trembling as she zipped it up. She hadn’t slept after overhearing his call. The words kept replaying.
She doesn’t know. And she won’t. It’s cleaner this way.
Cleaner for who?
By 8:50, she was standing in the foyer, hair pinned up, heels ready. Zayn came down the stairs exactly on time, dressed in a black suit, no tie, just crisp edges and cold confidence.
He didn’t say good morning. He barely glanced at her.
“Let’s go.”
They rode in silence again.
This time, though, Katriel didn’t fidget. She kept her eyes fixed on the city outside the window, her expression composed, but inside, she was burning with a storm of questions.
---
The car stopped in front of a tall, modern building. Zayn exited first and held the door open without looking at her.
She stepped out, squinting at the sign by the entrance. Qin Foundation Outreach Division.
Confused, she followed him inside.
The lobby was bright and welcoming, nothing like the cold corporate buildings she expected. A receptionist greeted them with a wide smile.
“Mr. Qin. You’re early.”
He nodded. “Where’s Dr. Lee?”
“On the third floor. The girls are ready.”
Girls?
- Writer
