Married to the cold billionaire

Cracks in the ice

Days blurred into one another inside Blackwood Tower.

Publicly, Damon and Eliana played their parts to perfection.

Photographs of the newlyweds appeared in magazines and gossip blogs — the billionaire mogul and his beautiful wife, a match made in high society heaven.

Behind closed doors, they barely spoke.

Eliana quickly learned the rhythm of their arrangement: breakfast was a silent affair, evenings were spent attending endless galas, charity events, and board dinners.

Damon was always immaculate, always cold, the perfect image of control.

And Eliana… she smiled when the cameras flashed, laughed softly when reporters asked about their “whirlwind romance,” and held his arm with the grace of a woman desperately hiding the cracks in her soul.

But tonight, something shifted.

They had just returned from another gala — a nauseating display of wealth and status.

Eliana kicked off her heels in the foyer, wincing as the cold marble floor sent a jolt through her aching feet.

Damon shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto a chair, loosening his tie with one hand.

“You didn’t have to be so distant tonight,” Eliana said before she could stop herself.

Damon froze, his back still turned to her.

She pressed on, emboldened by her exhaustion and the heavy silence that had been suffocating them both.

“People noticed,” she said. “They asked why you kept leaving my side.”

He turned slowly, his expression unreadable.

“Let them notice,” he said coolly. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me!” she snapped, surprising herself.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The tension between them stretched taut, threatening to snap.

Damon stepped closer, and for the first time, Eliana didn’t shrink away.

“You agreed to this,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “You signed the contract. You knew what this was.”

Her heart pounded, but she stood her ground.

“I signed it to protect my family,” she said, her voice trembling with anger. “But that doesn’t mean I deserve to be treated like a… like a ghost in my own marriage.”

Damon’s jaw tightened.

“You think I enjoy this?” he bit out. “Parading around like everything is perfect, when it’s all a lie?”

Eliana flinched.

He moved past her, pacing like a caged predator.

“I didn’t want a wife,” he continued. “I didn’t want this… mess. But appearances matter. Deals matter. Reputation is everything.”

She stared at him, seeing for the first time the strain in his shoulders, the exhaustion in his eyes.

“You’re not the only one trapped, Eliana,” he said, his voice rough. “We’re both prisoners of this deal.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. The storm outside beat against the windows, the city glowing coldly below them.

Slowly, Eliana stepped closer.

“You don’t have to be cruel,” she said quietly. “We could at least try to make it bearable.”

Damon’s eyes locked onto hers, and for a heartbeat, something raw and painful flickered there.

But then he turned away, retreating into his shell once more.

“Get some sleep,” he said. “We have another event tomorrow.”

Eliana watched him disappear down the hall, a hollow ache blooming in her chest.

Maybe they were both prisoners.

But somehow, it still felt like she was the only one who cared about finding the key.