Chapter 64: Playing House
The house was too quiet.
Sophie noticed it the moment the gates closed behind them, the heavy iron groaning as if protesting the illusion they were about to live inside. Blackstone Manor had always felt like a museum—polished, controlled, emotionally sterile. But tonight, it felt different. Intimate. Watchful.
Alex loosened his tie as they stepped inside, shrugging out of his jacket and handing it to Mrs. Albright without a word. The gesture was domestic in a way Sophie wasn’t prepared for. She watched him roll up his sleeves, revealing strong forearms etched with faint scars she had never asked about.
“Dinner in an hour,” Mrs. Albright said briskly. Then, after a pause that felt intentional, she added, “Together.”
Alex stiffened. Sophie caught it.
Together. As in: husband and wife. No board members. No lawyers. No cameras.
Playing house.
Alex glanced at Sophie. “If you’re tired—”
“I’m fine,” she said quickly. Too quickly. “Really.”
They stood there for a beat, two people unsure who was meant to move first. It was ridiculous. They had faced courtrooms, media ambushes, hostile shareholders. Yet this—this quiet evening—felt more dangerous than all of it.
Alex cleared his throat. “You can use the west sitting room. It’s… warmer.”
She nodded, though she knew the house well enough by now. What she didn’t know was him. Not really.
\---
Sophie curled up on the cream sofa, laptop open but untouched. Her thoughts kept drifting—to the way Alex’s hand had lingered at the small of her back earlier, to the way he had instinctively reached for her in public without thinking.
Something had shifted.
She was no longer just reacting to his world. She was shaping it.
And that terrified her.
The sound of glass clinking drew her attention. Alex stood by the liquor cabinet, pouring himself a drink. He hesitated, then poured a second glass and carried it toward her.
“Peace offering,” he said, handing it over.
She took it. Their fingers brushed. Electricity—quick, sharp.
They sat across from each other, the space between them charged and fragile.
“You handled the Thompson call today,” Alex said quietly. “They listened to you.”
Sophie shrugged. “They underestimated me.”
A ghost of a smile touched his mouth. “So did I.”
The admission landed heavier than he probably intended.
She studied him. The man who commanded boardrooms. The man who flinched at loud noises. The man who woke some nights drenched in sweat, though he never remembered the dreams.
“You don’t sleep,” she said suddenly.
Alex froze.
“I’ve noticed,” she added gently. “You’re always awake before dawn.”
He looked away. “Old habit.”
She didn’t push. Not yet.
\---
The charity gala was announced three days later.
Blackstone Global’s flagship foundation. High-profile. Dangerous.
“This isn’t optional,” Elena warned over speakerphone. “The board needs a united front.”
Sophie felt Alex tense beside her.
“Victoria will be there,” Elena added.
The name hit like a dropped glass.
Alex’s jaw hardened. “She has no business—”
“She always finds business,” Elena cut in. “And she knows how to weaponize history.”
Sophie said nothing, but the name echoed in her mind.
Victoria Sterling.
The ex no one talked about.
\---
The night of the gala, Sophie descended the staircase in silver silk, the dress clinging to her like a second skin. The room went still.
Alex turned.
For a moment, he forgot how to breathe.
“You look…” He stopped himself. Recovered. “Appropriate.”
She laughed softly. “Liar.”
He offered his arm. She took it.
The ballroom glittered with wealth and secrets. Sophie felt eyes tracking her—not dismissive now, but calculating.
Then she saw her.
Victoria Sterling stood near the bar, red dress, sharp smile, eyes locked on Alex like a claim she had never released.
Victoria’s gaze slid to Sophie.
And smiled.
“Alex,” Victoria said when they approached. “You look… married.”
Sophie tightened her grip.
Victoria leaned closer to Sophie, her voice velvet-soft. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”
Before Sophie could respond, the lights dimmed.
A projection lit the far wall.
Images.
A car wreck.
Fire.
A familiar road.
Alex staggered back as if struck.
Sophie turned to him. “Alex…?”
His face had drained of all color.
Because the accident on the screen—
Was the one that killed Sarah.
And Sophie recognized the location.
She had been there.
The truth slammed into her chest just as Alex whispered, broken and disbelieving:
“What did you do?”