Chapter 4
1203 Words
The Divided Front
Benita Hayes
The glass elevator of the Knight Power Holdings building shot upward like a silver bullet. I stood as far from Adrian as the small space allowed, my reflection staring back at me from the polished chrome—pale, professional, and perched on the edge of a breakdown.
"Stop checking your watch," Adrian said, his eyes fixed on the digital stock ticker running across the elevator’s internal screen. "It makes you look like you have somewhere better to be. In this building, there is nowhere better to be."
"I’m checking the time because I sent an encrypted file to my best friend, Mia, twenty minutes ago," I whispered, glancing at the security camera in the corner. "If she hasn't acknowledged it, it means the Knight firewall flagged it."
Adrian finally looked at me. His expression was unreadable. "You sent company data to an outside source on your first morning?"
"I sent a 'hello' embedded with a tracer to see how closely your father is monitoring my outgoing communications," I corrected, my chin lifting. "I’m observant, remember? I don't move until I know where the tripwires are."
The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open to a floor that looked more like a command center than an office. White marble, black steel, and walls of glass that overlooked the sprawling city.
"Adrian! You’re late. By four minutes. I was about to start the meeting without you and declare myself King."
A man with messy dark hair and a grin that felt dangerously infectious leaned against a glass desk. This was Luca Moretti, Adrian’s right-hand man and, from what I’d heard, the only person who could survive Adrian’s temper for more than a week.
"The variables changed, Luca," Adrian muttered, walking past him toward the corner office. "This is Benita. She’s... my wife. And she’s working the Hayes transition."
Luca’s eyes landed on me, bright and unnervingly intelligent. He pushed off the desk and offered a hand. "The 'Special Assistant.' I’ve heard. I’ve also seen your work on the Singapore audits, Benita. If you ever get tired of being a Knight, come work for me. I pay in sanity and actual coffee breaks."
"Benita!"
A familiar, high-pitched squeal echoed from the lobby. I turned just as a whirlwind of bright pink silk and blonde hair collided with me. Mia Carter. My best friend, and the only person in the world who treated me like a human being instead of a case study.
"Mia! Lower your voice," I hissed, hugging her back.
"I can't! You’re married! To him!" She pulled back, pointing a manicured finger toward Adrian’s office. "He’s like a very handsome, very scary robot. Are you okay? Did he make you sign a non-disclosure agreement just to eat breakfast?"
"Something like that," I whispered. "Mia, I need you to be my eyes in the marketing department. Vanessa is here. She’s shadowing the team."
Mia’s face instantly darkened. "The Step-Monster Junior? Say no more. I’ll make sure her 'shadowing' involves a lot of filing in the basement."
"Benita. In my office. Now." Adrian’s voice boomed from across the floor.
I gave Mia a quick squeeze and walked toward the glass doors. As I stepped inside, the door clicked shut with a heavy, pressurized sound.
"Sit," Adrian commanded, gesturing to a chair opposite his desk. "We have a problem."
"Besides my sister moving into your house?"
"Look at this." He turned his monitor toward me. It was a security feed from the Knight Estate.
My stomach dropped. The camera was positioned in the hallway outside our bedroom. Vanessa was standing there, a set of master keys in her hand. She looked over her shoulder once, then slid the key into the lock of our suite and disappeared inside.
"She’s snooping," I whispered, my blood running cold. "Adrian, my private journals are in that room. The notes I took on my father's files—"
"I had them moved to the floor safe before we left," Adrian said, his voice surprisingly calm. "But that isn't the point. She’s looking for proof that this marriage is a sham. If she finds two separate pillows or realizes we aren't sharing the same space, she’ll run straight to my father."
I stood up, pacing the length of the office. "We have to go back."
"No," Adrian said, standing as well. He walked around the desk until he was standing directly in front of me. "We let her look. And then, we give her exactly what she’s looking for."
"What does that mean?"
"It means," Adrian said, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind my ear, his touch lingering just a second too long, "that when we go home tonight, we don't just act like a couple. we become a spectacle. If Vanessa wants to spy, we’ll give her a show she’ll never forget."
Adrian Knight
I watched the realization dawn on Benita’s face. She was smart enough to know what I was suggesting, and she was terrified of it.
The truth was, I didn't need Vanessa to snoop to know this was a dangerous game. My father was playing three-dimensional chess with our lives. Bringing Vanessa into the house was a classic move to destabilize the "contract." He wanted Benita isolated, and he wanted me distracted.
But as I looked at Benita—standing in my office, her eyes fierce despite the fear—I realized my father had made a mistake. He thought Benita was a weak link. He didn't realize she was the catalyst.
"Luca," I barked into the intercom.
"Yeah, Boss?"
"Cancel the afternoon briefings. I’m taking my wife to lunch. Somewhere very public. Somewhere with a lot of cameras."
"The Plaza?" Luca asked, his voice sounding amused. "Or the bistro where all the gossip columnists hang out?"
"Both," I said, my gaze never leaving Benita’s. "It’s time the world saw exactly how 'devoted' we are."
I grabbed my coat and offered my arm to Benita. She hesitated for a heartbeat, then slipped her hand into mine. Her fingers were trembling, but her grip was firm.
"Ready for your first performance?" I asked.
"I’ve been performing my whole life, Adrian," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Just try to keep up."
As we walked through the lobby, I leaned in and kissed her temple. It was a calculated move, designed for the cameras I knew were stationed across the street. But as the scent of her hair hit me—something soft, like vanilla and old books—I felt a jolt of something that wasn't in the contract.
The "Cold Heart" was starting to thaw, and that was the most dangerous betrayal of all.
- Writer
