Mr. C.E.O, Your Wife Is A Man!

CHAPTER 3

The lights flickered again, casting the suite into shadows that stretched and warped across the sleek marble floors. The storm outside roared, rain lashing against the windows as if it wanted to wash away everything in its path. Every nerve in my body screamed: run, hide, vanish. But there was no escape. Not from Ethan. Not from the intruder. Not from the truth I was burying beneath Isla’s skin.

Ethan’s grip on my wrist was unrelenting. “Move,” he ordered, his voice low, urgent, but controlled. There was no room for hesitation. No room for mistakes. And yet, my mind betrayed me. Every step I took was trembling, every breath shallow, every heartbeat a drumbeat counting down my doom.

We reached the security panel, a bank of monitors displaying the penthouse and its surroundings. My eyes darted across the screens, but nothing made sense. Shadows moved, but quickly disappeared. Reflections betrayed nothing. Only one thing was clear: we were not alone.

“They’re inside,” I whispered, barely audible. My voice cracked under the weight of terror.

Ethan’s jaw tightened. “I know.”

The simple statement made my stomach knot. He knew. He already knew, and yet he didn’t panic. That was Ethan Vale: cold, precise, unshakable. A predator in a suit. I, on the other hand, was a fraud teetering on the edge of collapse.

A soft click echoed from the hallway. I flinched. My binder pinched against my ribs, reminding me how fragile this disguise truly was. Every muscle coiled. My mind raced: had they followed me from the agency? Or was it someone who knew me, not Isla?

“Stay behind me,” Ethan said again. His hand pressed lightly but firmly at the small of my back, pushing me toward the corner of the room. The heat of his body radiated through my coat. I wanted to shrink away, disappear, but a dangerous, confusing thrill coursed through me.

I couldn’t help but glance at him. The sharp angles of his jaw, the hard line of his mouth, the intensity in his eyes, it was impossible to ignore. Even now, when my life teetered on the edge, a part of me wanted him. Wanted him to see me. Wanted him to touch me. But that desire was deadly.

A shadow moved along the balcony. Too deliberate, too calculated. My breath caught. “Ethan… they’re—”

Before I could finish, the intruder spoke, voice smooth, mocking, and chillingly calm:

“Isla Quinn… or should I say… whoever you really are… you can’t hide forever.”

My stomach dropped. The words pierced me, not just for the danger they represented, but because they brushed against the lie I’d built so carefully. Whoever that was, they knew.

Ethan’s hand shot out, gripping my wrist, tugging me behind the sofa. “Close the blinds.” His voice was controlled, dangerous. Every movement precise, deliberate. I obeyed, yanking the cords with trembling fingers. The shadow outside vanished, but the fear lingered.

“They’re skilled,” he muttered, scanning the room with unblinking eyes. “Professional. Not random. And very close.”

I wanted to argue, to tell him it was just a scare tactic, that I could handle it. But my voice caught. I couldn’t speak without revealing more than I intended.

Ethan’s gaze dropped to the faint scar on my collarbone. My stomach knotted. I tried to cover it with the lapel of my jacket.

“You’re hiding something,” he said, his tone soft but lethal, like a blade sliding across ice. “And if you don’t tell me soon…”

I swallowed. The truth clawed at the edges of my tongue. If I confessed, if I allowed him even a hint of who I truly was… there would be no going back. And yet, the thought of not telling him felt like standing on a precipice, knowing someone could push me into the void at any second.

A sudden crash from the kitchen made both of us flinch. The intruder had entered. They were inside. My body went rigid. My hands shook uncontrollably.

Ethan moved first. Quick, fluid, controlled. He rounded the corner, hand gripping the letter opener I’d grabbed earlier. I followed, heart hammering, every step a struggle between fear and instinct.

The kitchen was empty. Nothing seemed amiss. Yet the sense of being watched was suffocating. Shadows clung to the corners, the appliances, the countertops. Every metallic reflection seemed like eyes staring at us.

“Check the suite,” Ethan ordered. His voice left no room for discussion. I followed silently, pressed close to him, feeling the heat and danger radiate from his body.

As we passed the bedroom door, my chest constricted. This was Isla’s room—the one I had borrowed entirely. Every detail, every pillow, every scent had been memorized, replicated. But now it was tainted with the intruder’s presence. The thought made me nauseous.

Ethan stopped suddenly, hand on the doorknob. He didn’t enter immediately. Instead, he turned toward me. His eyes held something I couldn’t read. Curiosity? suspicion? danger? all of it combined.

“You can’t keep lying,” he said, voice low, measured. “Whatever you’re hiding… it will cost both of us if I don’t know soon.”

My stomach twisted. I wanted to scream, to tell him everything, to collapse into his arms. But the words wouldn’t come. Not yet. Not while danger pressed close.

Lightning struck the building again, casting the room in stark white. In that instant, I saw it: a faint outline beneath my binder, a scar Ethan hadn’t noticed before. My blood ran cold. He would see it in the next flash.

And then he did. His eyes flicked down, narrowed, then rose to meet mine.

“Why is this here?” he demanded.

I froze, caught between fear, shame, and a confusing pull toward him. “It’s nothing,” I whispered, voice barely audible.

“Nothing?” His tone was sharp now, razor-edged. “You’re trembling. You’re lying. And someone is inside this building threatening us. And you… are hiding something from me.”

I swallowed hard. “I… I—”

A sudden loud thud from the balcony cut me off. The intruder had tried something—perhaps a distraction, perhaps a strike. I felt Ethan stiffen, muscles coiled, ready to react.

In that moment, the tension between us exploded. He moved closer, hand brushing my arm, deliberate, controlling, dangerous. Heat flared in me, panic and something else—something I couldn’t name.

“Step back,” he warned, not quite a command, not quite a plea.

I wanted to step back. My instincts screamed run, but my body froze. Every nerve alight, every thought a knot of fear and desire.

The intercom buzzed suddenly. A distorted voice:

“You can’t hide from the truth, Isla… or should I say… Kai. We know. And we’re coming for it.”

I froze. My heart dropped into my stomach. My secret, my real secret, was now directly threatened. Exposure wasn’t a distant threat. It was imminent.

Ethan’s hand gripped mine with lethal intent. “We fight together,” he said. “No more lies between us. Not now. Not ever.”

And then, the power blinked. The lights went out completely. Only the storm’s fury outside illuminated the room in brief, jagged flashes.

I felt Ethan’s body tense behind me, pressed against mine, and I realized something terrifying: not only were we in danger from the intruder… but the truth between us was about to become a weapon.

A figure appeared in the doorway of the suite during a lightning flash. Tall, deliberate, and familiar. Ethan’s grip on my wrist tightened. I could hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. And then… the figure stepped forward, and my entire carefully constructed life threatened to collapse in one moment.