Chapter 5: The Kessler Problem
1461 Words
Three days after “wife training” started, Aria felt like a robot being reprogrammed.
Wake up at 7. Breakfast with Adrian. Etiquette lessons at 10. Simulated dinner with investors at 2 PM. At night, watch business news so she’d “understand Adrian’s world.”
She hated every second of it.
But weirdly, she was getting good at it.
Today, Adrian said he had an important meeting and couldn’t accompany Aria to the boutique. So for the first time, Aria went out alone with guards waiting outside the door.
The boutique belonged to the Blackwood family’s designer. It was luxurious, the staff were polite, and no one dared ask why she was there without her husband.
Aria was trying on a navy blue dress when her phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number:
“That dress suits you. But I prefer seeing you in red. -D”
Aria frowned. D?
Damian Kessler.
She immediately deleted the message. Didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to reply.
But five minutes later, a courier entered the boutique with a huge bouquet of red roses.
The card read: _For Mrs. Blackwood. See you at the gala, Damian._
Aria felt sick.
She told the attendant, “Return it. I didn’t order this.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Blackwood. The sender already paid in full.”
Aria sighed deeply. She didn’t want drama. Especially not in public.
She asked the attendant to put the flowers in the back and hurried out after paying for the dress.
Unfortunately, she didn’t know there was a paparazzi photographer waiting outside.
The next morning, the photo appeared on every gossip site:
_Aria Blackwood seen leaving the boutique smiling while holding a bouquet of red roses from Damian Kessler._
The headline was worse: *“Affair Rumors? Adrian Blackwood’s Young Wife Getting Close to Kessler Heir?”*
Aria saw the news at 8 AM, right as Adrian walked into the room with a face as cold as ice.
“You want to explain this?” he said, tossing the iPad onto the bed.
Aria sat up straight. “It’s not my fault! I already rejected the flowers!”
“Your explanation doesn’t matter,” Adrian said coldly. “What matters is what people see. And right now, they see my wife accepting flowers from another man.”
“So what? Should I curse out Damian in public?”
Adrian stepped closer, his voice low but dangerous. “You won’t be alone again. Understand?”
Aria stared at him. “You can’t lock me up forever.”
“I can,” he said. “And I will if that’s the only way to protect our name.”
“Our?” Aria laughed bitterly. “There’s no ‘our,’ Adrian. Only you and that crazy contract.”
Adrian went silent. His jaw tightened.
Then he did something Aria never expected.
He kissed her.
This time it wasn’t rough. Not demanding.
His kiss was slow, possessive, like he was marking his territory.
When he pulled back, his eyes were dark.
“Don’t make me lose control, Aria,” he whispered. “Because if I lose control, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
Aria pushed him away, her breathing messy.
“Get out.”
Adrian stared at her for one more second, then left without a word.
That afternoon, Aria was called to Adrian’s office.
She entered carefully. Adrian sat behind the desk, his jacket off, tie loosened. On his desk was a report and the same bouquet of red roses—now wilted.
“You told someone to throw the flowers away?” he asked without preamble.
Aria nodded. “Yes. Why?”
Adrian pushed the bouquet toward her. “Because I don’t like other men giving you flowers.”
Aria frowned. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“It makes sense to me,” he said flatly. “You’re my wife. Legally, publicly, and if I can—personally.”
Aria felt her heart stop for a second.
“What do you mean?”
Adrian stood up, walked closer, and stopped right in front of her.
“I mean I’m not playing around, Aria,” he said quietly. “I’ve waited three years for you to be here. I won’t let anyone take you from me. Not Damian. Not anyone.”
Aria took a step back. “You can’t force someone to love you.”
“I don’t want you to love me,” Adrian said. “I want you to belong to me.”
The words struck deep.
Harsh. Honest. Terrifying.
But strangely, a small part of Aria’s chest didn’t fully reject it.
“Get out of my head,” she said quietly.
Adrian smirked slightly. “Can’t. You’ve been there since that night.”
“What night?”
“The gala three years ago,” he said. “When you spilled wine on my suit and apologized until I felt guilty.”
Aria went quiet. She remembered that night. She was drunk, embarrassed, and met a stranger who ended up calming her down.
“So it was you?” she whispered.
Adrian nodded. “Yes. And since then, I couldn’t let you go.”
Aria didn’t know what to say.
All her anger suddenly felt empty.
She turned and walked to the door.
“Believe whatever you want. I don’t believe you.”
“Good,” Adrian said behind her. “Trust is built. And I’ll build it, even if I have to force it.”
Aria shut the door hard.
That night, there was a business dinner at the penthouse.
Adrian deliberately invited Damian and his father again.
Aria knew it was a trap.
When dinner started, Damian sat right next to her.
“Good to see you again, Mrs. Blackwood,” he said quietly. “Did the flowers arrive?”
Aria ignored him.
But Damian didn’t give up.
“Adrian’s too possessive, isn’t he? You can’t even breathe freely with him.”
Aria turned, her voice low but sharp. “Shut up.”
Damian chuckled softly. “I’m just saying the truth. You’re not happy here.”
“And you think I’d be happy with you?” Aria shot back. “You’re a stalker, Damian. That’s not romantic.”
Damian’s face turned cold.
“Watch your mouth. I can make your life harder.”
Before Aria could reply, Adrian’s hand appeared on the table and pulled hers.
“That’s enough,” Adrian said, his voice calm but deadly. “Damian, go home. The meeting’s over.”
Damian stood up, his smile sinister. “We’re not done, Adrian.”
“We are,” Adrian said. He stared at Damian coldly. “Don’t touch my wife again.”
The room went silent.
Damian left without saying goodbye.
After they left, Adrian turned to Aria.
“Are you okay?”
Aria pulled her hand away. “I’m fine. But I hate this.”
“Hate what?” Adrian asked.
“Hate that you always come and save me,” she said. “It makes me feel weak.”
Adrian stared at her for a long time.
“You’re not weak, Aria. You’re just human. And humans need protecting.”
“From who? From you?” Aria asked quietly.
Adrian didn’t answer.
He just reached out and gently touched her cheek.
“From everyone,” he said softly. “Including me.”
Aria closed her eyes.
She hated how sincere those words sounded.
At 1 AM, Aria couldn’t sleep.
She stood on the balcony, looking at the city below.
The balcony door opened, and Adrian came out with two glasses of wine.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked.
“Why ask if you already know the answer,” Aria muttered.
Adrian handed her one glass.
“Tonight was hard for you.”
“Hard for you too,” Aria said. “You’re jealous.”
Adrian was quiet. Then he nodded.
“Yes. I’m jealous. I’d be crazy not to be.”
Aria looked at him. “Why? I’m not really yours.”
“To me, you already are,” Adrian said. “From the beginning.”
The night wind blew hard. Aria’s hair was messy, and Adrian unconsciously brushed it aside.
“You can’t keep doing this,” Aria said quietly. “One day I’ll leave.”
“If you leave, I’ll find you,” Adrian said. “And I won’t stop until you come back.”
Aria looked at him, and for the first time, she saw fear in Adrian’s eyes.
Not fear of losing business.
Fear of losing her.
Aria didn’t know what to feel.
She took her glass and drank it all.
“We’ll see,” she said quietly.
Adrian smiled faintly.
“We’ll see.”
- Writer
