Chapter 10: The Letters
1194 Words
Chapter 10: The Letters
Bonny’s POV
Adrian did not answer immediately.
He stood by the floor-to-ceiling window with one hand in his pocket, the city stretched behind him like a kingdom he had no interest in admiring.
I remained by the door.
Waiting.
Annoyed that I was waiting.
“What letters?” I repeated.
His gaze stayed on the skyline.
“The kind sent in envelopes.”
I stared.
“That was deeply unhelpful.”
“It was accurate.”
I marched closer.
“You knew what I meant.”
“Yes.”
“Then answer properly.”
He finally turned.
His expression was cool, but something sharper moved underneath it.
“Why does it matter to you?”
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
Because she came in here elegant and smug and left after dropping a grenade.
Because I hated that it worked.
Because I hated not understanding things.
Because I hated caring.
“It matters,” I said carefully, “because your ex just weaponized information in my workplace.”
“That is more reasonable.”
“You’re welcome.”
He moved behind his desk and sat.
“Yes. She sent letters after the engagement ended.”
My pulse skipped unpleasantly.
“How many?”
“I didn’t count.”
“You kept them.”
“I archived them.”
“That sounds richer and more irritating.”
His jaw flexed once.
“They were legal correspondence at first.”
I blinked.
“Legal?”
“She disputed property gifted during the engagement.”
Of course she did.
“Then?”
“Then apologies. Explanations. Regrets.”
“And you kept those too?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He looked at me for a long second.
“Because burning evidence is dramatic and inefficient.”
I threw my hands up.
“You are impossible to emotionally interpret.”
“I’m not asking to be interpreted.”
“That is obvious.”
He almost smiled.
Almost.
I hated how much I noticed that.
“So what did she want today?” I asked.
“A second chance.”
The room went still.
I tried to keep my face neutral.
Failed internally.
“And?”
“And I declined.”
My lungs worked again.
Ridiculous.
Why did I care?
This was a contract marriage.
Temporary.
Strategic.
Emotionally hazardous.
Yet relief still rushed through me before pride could stop it.
I folded my arms to hide it.
“She came all this way to be rejected?”
“Yes.”
“That must have hurt.”
“She survived hurting others.”
Cold.
Precise.
Honest.
I studied him more carefully.
“Did you love her?”
His eyes lifted.
“That question violates multiple rules.”
“Did you?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
No sarcasm.
No deflection.
Just truth.
The bluntness of it hit harder than I expected.
“And now?”
“No.”
The answer came just as cleanly.
I believed him instantly.
That realization did something odd inside my chest.
Before I could examine it, there was a knock.
Vanessa entered with a file.
“Sorry to interrupt.”
“You’re not sorry,” I said.
“Correct.”
She handed Adrian the file.
“The Ridgeway contract needs signature. Also, your mother called twice.”
Adrian’s expression hardened.
“Why?”
“She didn’t say.”
“She never does.”
Vanessa glanced between us, sensed tension, and brightened.
“Should I come back later?”
“No,” Adrian and I said together.
She looked delighted.
Then left.
I turned.
“Your mother?”
He signed the document.
“Yes.”
“You didn’t mention parents.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“I ask many things. You answer selectively.”
“That system works.”
I leaned on his desk.
“Do they know about me?”
“My mother does now.”
“And?”
“She requested dinner tonight.”
My spine straightened.
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
“With your mother?”
“Yes.”
“You say these things like weather forecasts.”
“They are easier than weather.”
I stared at him.
“The grandmother was warm.”
“My mother is not my grandmother.”
Excellent.
Wonderful.
Exactly what my nervous system needed.
“What is she like?” I asked.
He capped his pen.
“Intelligent.”
“That sounds safe.”
“Demanding.”
“There it is.”
“Elegant.”
“Still safe.”
“Disappointed in most people.”
“Less safe.”
He met my eyes.
“She will test you.”
I laughed once.
“I was abandoned at an altar, married a billionaire stranger, attacked by my ex-best friend, and interrogated by your former fiancée.”
I straightened.
“She can take a number.”
That earned me a real smile.
Brief.
Dangerous.
Then gone.
“Be ready at seven.”
---
By six-thirty, I regretted every ounce of confidence I had shown earlier.
Mara zipped the back of a navy dress and stepped away.
“You look beautiful.”
“I feel hunted.”
“She is only one woman.”
“She raised Adrian.”
Mara considered that.
“Fair concern.”
I turned to the mirror.
The dress was elegant and understated. My hair was pinned softly back. Makeup subtle.
I looked composed.
A lie, but a polished one.
A knock sounded.
Adrian entered without waiting, naturally.
He wore a black suit tonight.
Clean lines.
Dark tie.
Controlled expression.
He stopped when he saw me.
His eyes moved once from head to toe.
Slowly.
Then back to my face.
“You’ll do.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You continue to speak like a difficult landlord.”
His gaze sharpened faintly.
“You look…” He paused.
I waited.
Then:
“Appropriate.”
I gasped.
“Such passion.”
He almost smirked.
Progress.
He offered his arm.
I stared at it.
“What now?”
“My mother values presentation.”
“So we’re decorating ourselves.”
“We’re surviving efficiently.”
I slipped my hand through his arm.
His body tensed almost imperceptibly.
Interesting.
We walked toward the elevator together.
As the doors closed, I asked quietly:
“Why does your mother dislike people?”
“She doesn’t dislike people.”
A beat.
“She dislikes weakness.”
The elevator descended.
“And what does she think of you?” I asked.
His expression became unreadable.
“That depends on the day.”
The car ride was quiet.
The estate tonight felt different.
Less warm.
More formal.
More staff.
Sharper edges somehow.
We were led not to the family dining room, but to a private sitting room lit in gold and shadow.
A woman stood by the fireplace.
Tall.
Silver-black hair immaculate.
Pearls at her throat.
Wine glass in hand.
Power in posture alone.
She turned slowly as we entered.
Her eyes landed first on Adrian.
Then on me.
Then on our linked arms.
No smile appeared.
“So,” she said coolly.
“This is the girl you married out of nowhere.”
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