Secrets Exposed

The telephones won’t stop ringing. Every journalist within the metropolis appears to need a piece of the tale, and my reputation hangs by a thread.

I’ve asked Mary Anne to disconnect the wires, however even that doesn’t give me peace. Noah sits across from me, rattling off the script I’m supposed to follow in the course of our press convention. His tone is detached, as though he couldn’t care much less approximately the chaos swirling around me.

"We’ll inform them you’re back to live," he says, flipping through his notes. "And we’re making plans for our perfect second wedding."

I glare at him, but he’s already moved on, his consciousness somewhere else.

When eventually seated in front of the journalist, Noah’s hands are clasped around mine. His grip is organization, a silent warning that I dare no longer step out of line.

"It feels so true seeing you back collectively," the journalist gushes. "Is there a reason why you separated within the first area?"

Noah squeezes my hand, and I know it’s my cue.

"All couples want space," I start, forcing a smile. "We thought that’s what we wanted, however we didn’t recognize how much we’d omit each difference. We lost our way for a moment, but we’ve found it again."

Noah nods approvingly, his expression unreadable. I swallow hard, knowing one misstep ought to mean my first night time locked in the basement when you consider that I am back.

The journalist beams. "There have been rumors that you had been present all through the journalist’s accident the day gone by. Is that actual?"

My coronary heart stops. This wasn’t part of the plan.

Noah doesn’t even hesitate. "She was there," he says, his voice calm.

I snap my head closer to him, my eyes wide. What is he doing?

"She got here over to speak, approximately transferring again in," he maintains smoothly. "It was heartbreaking to witness something so awful appear to this type of gifted young woman."

The journalist’s interest shifts again to him, and I sink into my chair, relieved to be out of the highlight.

Noah knows exactly how to manage a room. By the time the journalist leaves along with her car full of lavish souvenirs, she looks charmed. Noah may want to by no means be hated no longer whilst he’s this beneficent.

I’m halfway up the stairs after I pay attention to a scream.

"Let her pass!"

Lewis.

Panic units in as I race to backtrack, determined to forestall him earlier than Noah gets to him. But it’s too late.

Noah is already there.

"What are you speaking about?" Noah asks, his voice eerily calm. It’s the first time I’ve seen him act composed around Lewis.

"I realize all your plans," Lewis spits. "You received it until you attended Jenny’s funeral."

"Lewis, please go away," Noah replies, his tone deceptively polite. "It’s Saturday. My spouse and I want to rest. Thanks for taking care of her while she wished for it, but she’s lower back with me now. You can move."

"I’m here for her," Lewis says, standing on his floor.

Noah’s calm exterior doesn’t waver, but I realize better. He ought to overwhelm Lewis with a flick of his wrist.

I try to stay hidden, however the staircase betrays me with a loud creak. Lewis looks up and sees me, dashing over to grab my hand.

Noah doesn’t examine us directly, however, I recognize he’s watching from the corner of his eye.

"I’m here for you, Jenny," Lewis says once more. I silently plead with him to leave, to forestall earlier than he says something irreversible.

But he doesn’t.

"I’m right here for you and the infant."

The surroundings shift instantly.

Noah’s head snaps towards me, his eyes blazing with fury.

The lower back of my head slams against the wall as his hand tightens around my neck. My imaginative and prescient blurs and the room spins.

"Noah, please," I croak, my voice slightly audible.

"You whore," he growls. "Two months far from me, and you’re already dozing with your ‘buddy’?"

"It's not…" I attempt to explain, but the phrases catch in my throat as I choke.

"Sir, please let her move!" Mary Anne’s voice cuts via the fog.

Noah’s grip loosens, and I collapse to the ground, coughing violently.

"She’s satisfactory," Noah snaps, his tone icy.

"If she’s excellent, then allow her to communicate," Mary Anne challenges from the doorway.

Noah crouches beside me, his face inches from mine. "Tell her you’re satisfactory," he orders, his voice low and menacing.

"Mary," I rasp, "I’m high-quality. Don’t…fear."

She hesitates before retreating, her footsteps fading into the gap.

I live on the ground, gasping for air, one hand clutching my throat. My reflection inside the mirror is unrecognizable mascara streaked down my cheeks, my face pink and swollen, irritated fingerprints marking my neck.

"Look what you made me do," Noah says, his tone almost regretful. He grabs a tissue and starts off evolving, wiping my tears away earlier than fetching water from the mini fridge.

I drink it carefully, my throat raw, as he watches me like a predator.

When I place the cup down, he leans forward, his gaze piercing.

"Who is the daddy of the child?"

The query hangs inside the air, heavy and suffocating.

My mind races, a whirlwind of doubt and fear. Do I tell him the truth? Can I risk it? Will my infant be safe if I do? Every possible outcome plays out in my head, each one worse than the last.

I stare at him, his calculating gaze pinning me in place, the weight of my decisions pressing down on me like a vice. If I had found the money elsewhere, could I have avoided this? Might I still be here, trapped in his suffocating web?

No. I wouldn’t be. 

But now, there’s no escaping. Every door is locked, every path leads back to him.  

And he knows it. The satisfaction in his eyes says it all.