MatthiasCountdown: one day before the marriage.Some people sure didn’t know when to stop, because they kept trying to ruin my mood despite knowing damn well nothing would change. If years trying didn’t do shit, what made them think that a day would?I gotta admit, they really got me to my limit.After I took Althea to her penthouse, I chose to rest a bit in my car. But just before I wanted to close my eyes, my phone rang.“Mr. Cox, we’ve done all as you said.” My assistant, Ren, said. “Those paparazzi were sent by Davos. We’ve gotten rid of any footage they took and warned them for any suspicious news.”That old man really didn’t know when to stop, huh? “He should worry about his coffin rather than bothering a woman twice his age.”“He’s been eyeing Erbeauty for quite awhile now,” Ren replied. Leonardo thought he could control Althea by treating her with those fake acts at first. His new target unexpectedly getting married to someone else was definitely not on his list. Everybody k
AltheaMy only reference of weddings were the depictions given by the media. You know how it went–that stereotypical grand weddings with a bunch of people invited, a giant cake that cost more than the annual wage of an average worker, completed by fancy catering as if it was prepared by a 3 Stars Michelin Chef (and probably it was). The merrier it was, the more in love were the groom and the bride. I never really dreamed of a wedding. Survival was always my priority. It still was. Despite all the preparations I’ve done, the fact that I sat next to my new husband and known as “Mrs. Cox” still didn’t feel right. All those wishes seemed like nonsense. This wedding was nothing but an act, a part of my survival plan.I remembered every single word that we exchanged at the altar. How both of us looked at each other, tried to convince the world that love was in this marriage.“I, Matthias Cox, take you, Althea Lewis, to be my wife. To be my friend, faithful partner, and my life from this
AltheaThe wedding was over. Finally.It took a lot of my energy to meet a lot of people. I also met a few of my father’s colleagues, including Leonardo and Josh. While Matthias once told me Leo was planning for something, he was cool when we talked. He congratulated me on my wedding and asked about my experience working with big business so far.“If there is anything you need, you can reach me out. You can ask for Josh’s help too. He might know your father’s business better, since they were working together before.”“I’ll remember that, Leo.”Sure, I would remember it. But doing that? No promise was made.Maybe I started to get the grasp of living like the rich.Despite all of my energy being drained to attend the wedding–as the bride, of course–it was safe to say it all went smoothly. We expected some small annoying events, but so far it’s right on track, just as we planned. Even after the wedding was over, and we were on our way to the house. There would be no need for a hotel whe
AltheaTo be a wife was not easy at all.Based on my research—which was totally taken from the internet as my single source—you would know what to do when you were married. It supposed to feel natural, since you were doing it with and for the love of your life. That was why there was no fixed manual about how to be a good wife. When you knew, you knew.But it seemed like I needed that sort of manual, because Lord help, I didn’t really know what to do. The wedding was barely an opening. A prelude from the whole act.Did every couple on earth really marry for love so they didn’t need any manual or guidebook?Maybe one day, I would write this down and the first ever manual book of how to be a good fake wife. They said business was about finding an opportunity, no? Might as well use this one.But the problem was, I needed to be good first, so I could tell others how to do the same. Yet the questions still remain with no answer.I stared at the connecting door as I woke up. This was his re
MatthiasI visited Italy a few times for business trips, but this was my first time here without any business agenda.It still was business, though not like the usual business I did. This time, I didn’t need to meet any investors. I didn’t have to stay awake for late night meetings, or to have some arguments regarding the deal. I just needed to exist, to be here beside the woman who people knew as my wife.Althea Cox. That name suited her quite nicely.Our flight was 10 hours, more or less. We chose to go with a commercial airline and use our private jet as a distraction. Media would find out sooner or later, but I wanted at least the three days of this honeymoon to be shit-free. I asked Ren to use my private jet to meet my new investor in Bali, Indonesia. Two birds in one stone.I didn’t know if there was something interesting in Venice, but Althea named that, so here we were. Once we arrived at the airport and took our luggage, we grabbed a taxi and went to the hotel. The streets
AltheaI didn’t know if it was caused by Venice or my energy was drained to the bottom of the pit, but I slept so well last night.Well, afternoon, to be exact. My stomach was already full from all the airplane food when we arrived, so all I needed was to catch the lack of sleep I’ve had for two days straight. I just did not expect it to be 10 hours of sleep. It could possibly be more than that if not because of the door bell.I forced my eyes to open, then a flash of light basked me, automatically made me close my eyes again. What? Was that the call from heaven?It took me a while with constant blinking until I could adapt. The door closed again, and I saw Matthias there. He walked to my bed, then put the tray that consisted of bread, cheese butter, and a glass of milk.“Eat this and get ready,” he commanded. Yeah, husband. A good morning would be nice, but whatever.“That’s enough right? We can grab some food outside later. So get ready, fast.”“Get … what?”“If you don’t want to w
AltheaTo say that Venice was nice was an understatement. Sure, some places weren’t as nice as those mesmerizing photography you’d seen online, but Venice got what I’ve been looking for. In another life, I hoped I was born rich, so that I could go to Venicea thousand times and explore more of its beauty and arts.We have visited 3 museums and one art exhibition in total, and all he did was follow me around without protest. I almost thought I was accompanied by someone that was not Matthias Cox. I did not plan anything, all of those museums were mentioned by him. It’s like we were on a trip and he was my tour guide.Should I start to worry or was it okay for me to relax?“Now, next ….”I stopped him when we were walking out from the exhibition we’ve just seen. “Do you want to go elsewhere?”“Why?” He asked me back. “There were still a few museums left.”So he really had a list with him. SInce when? And why though?I’d love to do that again, sure, but I was not alone here, and even i
Matthias“Are you done yet?”My gaze diverted to the bathroom door as Althea went out with a red turtleneck and a black jeans. A towel wrapped her hair, and the bathrobe was in her left arm.“Done,” I said to her as I locked my tab screen. An hour ago, Ren called and asked me to join a Zoom Meeting. CaT–Cox and Tech–had a new investor that offered a big deal, but he wanted to talk to me in person as soon as possible, hence why the sudden meeting.“In the end it’s not really a honeymoon, huh? Some people still nudge you with work.”“It’s not like we’re having a real honeymoon too.” I added, and she rolled her eyes.“But we’re pretending that we do, is it not?” “You need to do better then.” I eyed her ankle. “How is it?”“It’s fine. Thanks to the meds and the doctor.”“How about you thank me too?” I didn’t really need it, actually. “If you need a reminder, you left me yesterday.” Her eyes squinted, giving me that irritating look.“And you chose to keep walking.” I shrugged. “It’s not
AltheaWas it normal to feel like you were hurt by something, but also felt guilty because you feel hurt? I didn’t know what kind of paradox this was called, or if it was only something that I made up to feel less insane–and failed anyway. I went back to the office, eating nothing, drinking nothing, speaking nothing.I stared at my laptop screen for what felt like hours, but the words blurred together into incomprehensible lines of text. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, useless, frozen. No matter how much I tried to push past it, Gwen’s words replayed in my head, over and over, an unrelenting echo.Matthias’s dearest.The way she said it, the way she looked at me—like I was an outsider in my own marriage. And wasn’t I? Wasn’t that exactly what I was? A placeholder. A name on a contract. A woman with no right to feel anything.And yet, the sting in my chest refused to fade. It pressed deeper, sharper, until it felt like I was suffocating under the weight of something I shouldn’t e
AltheaThe words lingered between us, thick and suffocating. Matthias’s dearest.I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe. My grip on the coffee cup was painfully tight, my knuckles white from the pressure.Gwen’s smile remained perfectly poised, as if she were savoring the reaction she’d just pulled from me. Her hazel eyes gleamed with something unreadable—amusement, curiosity, maybe even satisfaction. She wasn’t just saying it to inform me. She was testing me.I forced myself to swallow past the lump in my throat. “Oh,” I said, my voice thin. “I see.”That was the best I could come up with? I see?Gwen hummed lightly, tilting her head as she studied me. “I thought Matthias would have mentioned me. We go way back.”Go way back.Each word chipped away at the weak wall I had built around my heart. It was stupid, wasn’t it? To feel anything at all? I was nothing but Matthias’s fake wife. A legal obligation. A name on a contract. But that didn’t stop the unease slithering beneath my skin, wrappin
AltheaIt seemed like I needed a tutorial about how to not overthink things.Days had passed, and by this time, I should have stopped thinking about that name: Gwen. And yet, I couldn’t.Every time I looked at Matthias—when we had breakfast together, when he returned home late at night with that same unreadable expression—her name echoed in my mind like a whisper I couldn’t silence. Who was she? Why hadn’t he said anything about her? Was it because she was just another person in his long list of acquaintances, or was it because she was someone I was never supposed to know about?The worst part was, I knew I had no right to ask. I was his fake wife. Nothing more. We had a contract, an agreement built on necessity, not love. If there was another woman in his life—someone he truly cared about—what place did I have to question it? And yet, knowing all this didn’t make it any easier to ignore the gnawing unease that clawed at my chest.Matthias, on the other hand, remained as composed as e
[Folded page, extra POV]The dim glow of multiple screens illuminated the darkened room, casting jagged shadows against the walls. The only sound was the faint hum of machines, a steady pulse in the silence. Rows of code scrolled down the largest monitor, lines of encrypted data shifting in real time. Another screen displayed a series of documents—emails, phone records, confidential case files. Each one meticulously compiled, each one tied to a single name: Matthias.The blackmailer leaned back in their chair, fingers tapping idly against the desk as they scanned the information. Matthias had taken the bait. He was cautious, but that was expected. He was a man who thrived on control, on understanding the rules of the game better than anyone else. Which made it all the more satisfying to shift those rules beneath his feet. The misdirection had worked, at least for now. New York had been too easy, too obvious. But it served its purpose—it forced Matthias to react. And a man in motion wa
MatthiasThere’s a reason why dealing with idiots is exhausting.Sure, expecting too much often leads to disappointment rather than satisfaction, but I’m fairly certain every person is at least given a brain to think. Some just choose not to use it, letting it rot into nothing more than dead weight in their skulls. And the worst part? They don’t even realize it. They move through life making the same mistakes, refusing to take responsibility, blaming everything and everyone except their own incompetence. It’s almost impressive—the mental gymnastics they go through just to avoid admitting they’re the problem.I tended to stay far from those types. I’d rather deal with nobody than waste my time getting mad over someone’s stupid and questionable behavior. But unfortunately, in business, avoiding them entirely wasn’t always an option. Some of them were clients. Some of them were investors. Some of them were people who, for whatever reason, had power they didn’t deserve.And people like me
AltheaThe morning light seeped through the kitchen window, casting a soft glow over the table. The scent of coffee lingered in the air, mixing with the faint crispness of toast and the subtle warmth of eggs fresh off the pan. It was quiet, save for the occasional clink of silverware against plates and the low hum of the coffee machine.Matthias sat across from me, his fingers wrapped around a steaming mug, eyes still heavy with the remnants of sleep. His shirt was slightly rumpled, his hair still damp from a shower, a few strands falling over his forehead. He wasn’t reading the newspaper or looking at his phone like he usually did. Instead, he was watching me.I didn’t know if he was waiting for me to say or do something, but I didn’t feel like doing anything at all.Maybe it was because of the lack of sleep. Last night was tiring, sure. I had barely had enough sleep or food since my aunt’s funeral. My body was tired, I couldn’t lie. Yet as I lay in bed, I couldn’t get myself to slee
MatthiasThe drive home was steeped in silence, broken only by the low hum of the engine and the rhythmic pattern of rain against the windshield. The darkness outside stretched endlessly, mirroring the weight pressing against my chest. My mind was a battlefield, tangled in the web of revelations Cyan had unearthed—threats that had never truly disappeared, ghosts from a past I had fought to bury.Fenny’s death wasn’t random. It wasn’t some tragic accident or an unfortunate coincidence. It was deliberate. A warning. A message.And somehow, all of it led back to the past—the one I had tried so damn hard to leave behind.By the time I pulled into the driveway, exhaustion was gnawing at the edges of my mind, but the tension in my body didn’t ease. The house stood still, bathed in shadows, save for the faint glow bleeding from the living room window. I lingered outside for a moment, breathing in the crisp night air, letting the rain soak into my skin. The cold did little to ground me.Insid
MatthiasI drove through the quiet streets, my grip tightening on the steering wheel. The rhythmic tapping of rain against the windshield did little to drown out the thoughts hammering in my skull. The blackmail letters sat on the passenger seat beside the laptop I had retrieved from Fenny’s apartment, a silent accusation in the dim glow of the dashboard. The weight of them pressed against me, heavier than paper had any right to be. My mind churned through possibilities, each one darker than the last. Every turn of the tires felt like it was carrying me deeper into something I wasn’t sure I was ready to face.Fenny was dead. And now, staring at the threats she had received, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just about her. This was bigger. A tangled web I had somehow been caught in long before I even realized it.I pulled up to a nondescript building in an industrial district, killing the engine and stepping out. The air was thick with the scent of rain-soaked pavement and
AltheaI’ve never attended a funeral before, let alone to manage one. But there would always be a first time in everything, and this was mine.When Granny died, she asked to be cremated instead. She said it was a form of her freedom, and no funeral was needed.“At least when I die, don’t make me pay for anything. I’ve paid it all with my life.”So when Granny died, it just sort of happened. No special ceremony or time to cry. A few of her friends came, but somehow they didn’t question her decision. We all just stood there, watched the cremation process, as they told me, “It’s just her, you know. All we can do now is to respect her.”I didn’t understand her decision at that time, or even now, but some part of me knew that was so Granny. She would choose something that the majority of people didn’t understand. But Fenny was different. Despite the Alden blood we’ve shared and a few conversations through Facebook, I didn;t know her as much as Granny. I didn’t even know what she looked li