Chapter 6

The days following Julian’s absence were a blur of emptiness. I spent most of my time wandering the penthouse, avoiding the staff with their pitiful glances and pretending I didn’t feel the suffocating loneliness creeping in through every corner of the cold, sprawling space. The walls seemed to echo with the silence, a constant reminder of how isolated I was in this hollow marriage.

Julian hadn’t returned since the honeymoon. Or rather, the lack of one. I didn’t know where he was, and I didn’t dare ask. The villa staff had been kind enough to inform me that he was 'attending to business matters,' but I knew better. Business matters didn’t require disappearing without a word, and they certainly didn’t involve neglecting your new wife. Julian’s absence wasn’t about work—it was about avoidance. Avoidance of me and of a marriage he clearly wanted no part of.

And yet, a small part of me, a part I hated, kept hoping the door would open and he’d walk in. That he’d at least offer some kind of explanation, or even acknowledge my existence. But the days stretched into weeks, and the door remained firmly shut.

It was on one of those monotonous afternoons, as I sat curled up on the couch with a book I wasn’t really reading, that the silence was broken by the shrill ring of the house phone. My heart jumped in my chest, though I wasn’t sure why. I set the book down and crossed the room, my bare feet padding softly against the marble floor as I reached for the receiver.

“Hello?” My voice came out quieter than I’d intended, hesitant and unsure.

“Elena.” The sharp, authoritative tone of my father’s voice immediately sent a chill down my spine. “I’ve been trying to reach you. Why haven’t you answered your cell phone?”

I glanced at the small device sitting untouched on the coffee table. I hadn’t bothered to check it in days. “I’ve been busy,” I lied, my fingers tightening around the receiver.

“Busy?” he repeated, his tone dripping with skepticism. “What could you possibly be busy with? You’re a Blackwood now, Elena. Your responsibilities have changed. You should be focused on upholding your new status, not wallowing in self-pity.”

I bit back the retort that rose to my lips, knowing it would only make things worse. “What do you need, Father?”

There was a pause, followed by a faint sigh. “There’s a charity gala this Saturday. The Blackwoods are hosting it, and I expect you to be there. It’s important that you make a good impression.”

“A gala?” I repeated, my stomach sinking. The idea of dressing up and parading around as Julian’s wife in front of hundreds of strangers was the last thing I wanted to do. Especially when I didn’t even know if Julian would bother to show up.

“Yes, a gala,” my father said impatiently. “And don’t embarrass me, Elena. You’re representing the Carter family as much as the Blackwoods. I’ve worked too hard to build our reputation to have it tarnished by your… lack of enthusiasm.”

The line went dead before I could respond, leaving me standing there with the receiver still pressed to my ear. I set it down slowly, the weight of my father’s words settling over me like a heavy cloak. A gala. Of course there was a gala. The Blackwoods and Carters thrived on appearances, and what better way to reinforce their alliance than by parading their newest acquisition before the world?

But how was I supposed to play the role of the perfect wife when my husband didn’t even care enough to be here?

The day of the gala arrived far too quickly, and despite my best efforts to steel myself for the event, I couldn’t shake the knot of anxiety twisting in my stomach. The penthouse staff had been buzzing around me all morning, preparing every detail with meticulous care. My dress, a stunning emerald-green gown that clung to my figure and flared out at the bottom, had been chosen specifically to complement Julian’s eyes, or so I’d been told. The irony wasn’t lost on me, considering I hadn’t even seen Julian in weeks.

“Mrs. Blackwood, the car is ready,” one of the staff members informed me as I stood in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection. I barely recognized the woman looking back at me. Her makeup was flawless, her hair swept into an elegant updo, and the dress made her look every bit the part of a billionaire’s wife. But beneath the polished exterior, she was still me. Elena Carter, the girl who had once dreamed of painting her way through life, now trapped in this cage.

I nodded silently and followed the staff member to the waiting car. The ride to the gala was quiet, save for the faint hum of the engine and the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. My hands rested in my lap, fingers twisting together as I tried to calm my nerves. I had no idea what to expect, but I knew one thing for certain: I’d have to face this alone.

When we arrived at the grand hotel where the gala was being held, I was greeted by a flurry of cameras and flashing lights. Paparazzi lined the entrance, their shouts and clicks creating a cacophony that made my head spin. I stepped out of the car with as much composure as I could muster, the smile on my face feeling as fragile as glass. The cameras followed my every move, capturing each step as I made my way inside.

The ballroom was breathtaking, a sea of glittering chandeliers and opulent decor. Guests in elegant gowns and tailored suits milled about, their laughter and chatter filling the air. I felt like an outsider, a stranger in a world that wasn’t mine. But I plastered on a smile and moved through the crowd, exchanging polite greetings and avoiding any questions about Julian’s absence.

“Elena.”

The sound of his voice stopped me in my tracks. I turned slowly, my heart skipping a beat as I saw Julian standing a few feet away. He was dressed impeccably in a black tuxedo, his green eyes sharp and unreadable as they met mine. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

“You came,” I managed to say, though my voice wavered.

He raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t trust myself to.

Julian stepped closer, his gaze flickering over me briefly before settling back on my face. “You look… adequate,” he said, his tone as cool and detached as ever.

I bit back the retort that rose to my lips and forced a smile. “Thank you. You’re as charming as ever.”

His smirk widened slightly, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he offered me his arm, a gesture that was more for appearances than anything else. “Shall we? The vultures are watching.”

I hesitated for a moment before slipping my hand into the crook of his arm. The warmth of his skin against mine sent an unexpected jolt through me, but I quickly pushed the feeling aside. This wasn’t real. None of it was.

As we moved through the crowd, I couldn’t help but notice the way people stared at us, the whispers, the curious glances, the subtle nods of approval. To them, we were the perfect couple, the epitome of wealth and power. They didn’t see the cracks beneath the surface, the coldness in Julian’s eyes, or the ache in my chest.

But for tonight, I would play my part. I would smile, laugh, and pretend that this life was everything I’d ever wanted. Even if it was killing me inside.