Chapter 11: Chapter 10

“Give me that.” I try again, but he steps his arm back slightly, eyes locked on mine.

Then, firm and low, he says:

“Listen carefully, Chloe, because I won’t repeat it.”

“Your reputation now affects mine. And this pile of overdue bills…” He shakes the paper. “…is affecting me. I feel my eye twitch every time I see one.”

“Drama.” I roll my eyes, but he doesn’t smile. He’s serious now.

Dominic exhales sharply, and even with all his elegant posture, the discomfort is visible. Because clearly, I don’t fit into his perfect world — like a grain of sand in his eye.

The manager comes back almost skipping, holding the card machine like a trophy. Dominic, in no hurry, takes his wallet from his inner pocket and pulls out the same black card — sleek, matte, nameless.

I could barely see the amount on the screen — he slightly tilted the display away. The beep of the approved purchase felt like a slap to my pride.

I swallowed hard, looking away. My skin burned with embarrassment. A stranger — technically my fake “husband” — had just paid my bills as if they were a simple coffee.

The building manager thanked him with a nearly comical bow, holding the card machine with both hands as if he had just won the lottery, and walked away down the hallway staring at it like a sacred relic.

Dominic turned his back and started walking toward the stairs as if nothing had happened. I stood there for a moment, unsure if I wanted to punch a wall or disappear.

In silence, I walked to the bedroom. I pushed the door with my shoulder. The suitcases were ready on the floor, organized with military precision.

I let out a heavy sigh.

I ran my fingers through my hair, messing it up a little, my bangs slipping to the side of my face. I took a step back, hesitated… and grabbed the handles of the suitcases. This was it. Over. It was no longer my home.

I shut the door behind me with a sharp click and went downstairs. Outside, Dominic was waiting, leaning against the car, a cigar between his fingers. He was there, in silence.

He took my bags without a word and placed them in the trunk with almost surgical precision.

Then, he opened the door for me.

“Thank you…” I murmured, not sure if he heard me. I got into the car and fastened the seat belt.

Dominic got in right after and slammed the door. The sound echoed, muffled.

In the front seat, I noticed the driver — a man with tired, sunken eyes. I tried to look at him for a few seconds, but Dominic reached over and slid the divider up, completely isolating the back seat.

The car began to move.

Silence filled everything, except for the discreet sound of the engine gliding through the dark streets. The city faded behind us, streetlights became scarce, windows unlit. The road felt endless.

A little later, the car stopped in front of a black iron gate with arabesque ornaments, cameras positioned like sentinels, soft lights on the pillars of the wall. It was more of a fortress than a house.

When the gate opened slowly, the car moved forward along a path lined with grass cut millimetrically. The front area was vast — a parking lot worthy of a luxury hotel, several cars, one covered with a white cloth. Everything perfectly ordered. An almost obsessive care.

And then I saw the house. Or rather, the mansion.

“Wow…” The word escaped my lips involuntarily. I caught myself staring, mouth slightly open, absorbing the image in front of me. For a second, I genuinely thought I was dreaming.

The sound of crickets filled the air — no cars, no neighbors, no horns. Just peace. And expensive silence.

The car stopped in front of the main entrance. The driver got out first, opening the door for me with a slight nod. Then he did the same for Dominic, who stepped out, adjusting his suit jacket with an elegant tug on the cuffs.

He didn’t wait. He went straight to the trunk, grabbed my suitcases, and headed toward the entrance.

I hurried my steps, climbing the three front stairs to catch up with him. As soon as I walked into the house, I froze.

My eyes widened. It was… breathtaking.

The marble floor subtly reflected the light of crystal chandeliers. Dark wood furniture, perfectly aligned, with hand-carved detailing. No clutter. Nothing out of place. Not a single speck of dust. The scent of wood — with touches of cedar and something that reminded me of expensive leather — filled the air.

I followed Dominic up the stairs. The carved handrail looked like something from a movie. My fingers brushed lightly over the wood, feeling the grooves. It was too much for my brain to process.

In the hallway, the paintings on the walls looked old but valuable. Everything screamed elegance. And money.

Dominic stopped at the first door on the right and opened it.

The bedroom was bigger than my old apartment.

A king-size bed in the center, impeccably white bedspreads. A thick beige rug at the foot. A burgundy velvet armchair in the corner. Built-in closet, custom furniture, a small side table with a cut-glass lamp.

I stood at the door, unsure whether to enter or ask for a guided tour.

Dominic stepped inside, set the bags on the floor next to the bed, and turned to look at me.

“This is where you’ll stay,” he said simply, as if it were nothing.

“Okay,” I replied in a thin voice. There was nothing to question. The beauty of the place left me speechless.

He didn’t say anything else. He just turned around and left, closing the door.

I remained in the middle of the room for a few minutes, just taking everything in. My eyes wandered over the light linen curtains, the soft sheen of the varnished wood, the warm silence filling the space. It was too beautiful, too sophisticated… and definitely didn’t feel like my reality.

I blinked a few times, trying to absorb everything, until Dominic’s deep voice pulled me back to Earth.

“Chloe.” He called, from the hallway.

I turned my head toward the door, still a bit dazed.

“Yes…” I replied, opening the door slowly and peeking through the crack.

He was leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed, posture as firm as always. His green eyes studied me as usual.

“Dinner,” he said, curtly, already turning to walk.

“Oh. Okay.” I muttered, closing the door behind me and rushing to follow him.

The silence was suffocating, and I wanted to try to break it — or at least try.