Chapter 13
Lena's POV
Ten a.m., and I stood at the second-floor bedroom window, watching Rowan's black Mercedes pull out of the Lakeview Estate driveway. Jack drove. Rowan sat in the back, suit impeccable, phone in hand.
The taillights disappeared around the corner.
I picked up my phone and texted Emily: [Free for coffee?]
Her response came almost instantly: [Always. Usual place?]
[See you in thirty.]
I changed into a charcoal cashmere cardigan and black slacks, touched up my makeup. The woman in the mirror looked composed, put-together—nothing like someone who'd been caught discussing "potential candidates" with her best friend while her contract husband eavesdropped from the hallway.
"Our contract expires in three weeks. After that, who I talk to, who I'm with—none of your business."
The words I'd said to him last night now sounded like a reminder to myself.
---
The Seventh Sense Café on Oak Street was Emily's and my longtime haunt—far from Silverton's financial district, frequented by artists and freelancers, unlikely to run into anyone we knew. When I arrived, Emily had already claimed our corner booth, two lattes and a tiramisu waiting on the table.
"You look okay," she said, scanning my face. "Better than I expected, actually. Did you sleep?"
I slid into the seat across from her, reaching for my coffee. "A few hours."
"Good." She pushed the tiramisu toward me. "Have some. Sugar helps. It's science."
I smiled slightly, picking up a fork. "Don't you have clients on Saturdays?"
"It's Saturday," she shrugged, "and besides, even if I did have appointments, you're more important. So—after that awkward hallway situation last night, did he leave this morning?"
"Around ten." I took a small bite of tiramisu. "Jack was driving. Looked like he was heading somewhere to handle business."
Something flickered across Emily's face. She didn't respond immediately, just pulled out her phone and scrolled for a moment.
"What?" I asked.
She looked up, hesitating. "I wasn't going to show you this while you were eating—didn't want you to choke. But you'll see it eventually. Better I'm here when you do."
She slid her phone across the table.
The screen showed a social media post from one of those accounts that tracked Silverton's elite social scene:
[Silverton Elite Circle - Live Updates]
The photo was crystal clear: Rowan standing on the Kane estate steps, Nora on his arm, beaming. She wore a pink silk gown, hair swept into an elegant updo, looking every inch the princess. And Rowan—dark blue suit, expression cool, but his hand rested on her waist in an unmistakably intimate gesture.
The caption: "Kane heiress birthday celebration. Reynolds Industries heir in attendance. Deep friendship sparks speculation..."
I stared at the photo.
His hand. On her waist.
The exact same position he used with me.
I set down my fork and pushed the phone back. "Last night?"
"Yeah. Nora Kane's birthday party." Emily pocketed her phone, watching my reaction. "You okay?"
"Fine." I lifted my coffee cup, took a sip. "Not the first time anyway."
Emily was quiet for a moment, then sighed. "Lena, I honestly don't know what to say about this man. He's been close with Nora the entire time you've been married, all those rumors floating around. I get that yours is a contract marriage, but does he have to be so shameless? Could he not show a little restraint?"
"Restraint isn't really his strong suit," I said evenly.
"The restraint's on your end." Emily looked at me. "Last night he's in your bedroom interrogating you about Daniel Whitmore, accusing you of lining up the 'next deal.' Then he turns around, goes to her birthday party, and poses for pictures with his hand on her waist. What is that—hypocrisy? Or does he genuinely not see the problem?"
I didn't answer.
"You not making the marriage public," Emily continued, "maybe gave him license to be more brazen. But at least it protected you too. Imagine if the whole world knew you were Rowan Reynolds's wife. What would the headlines look like now?"
She was right.
Not publicizing the marriage had been my condition from the start. Not to protect him—to protect myself.
"What right does he have to question me?" I set down my cup, fingers tracing the rim. "We're just a contract. The contract's almost up, and who I talk to, who I'm with—none of his business. But him? He can parade around with his college ex, and everyone thinks it's perfectly normal."
"Because he's a man." Emily's tone dripped sarcasm. "In this world, men are always the ones with agency. Women are always the ones being chosen. He can have an ex, have ambiguity, have a 'friend's little sister' he looks after. But you? You mention one other name and you're 'desperate to line up the next guy.' Real fair."
I smiled, though it tasted bitter. "I knew from the start this marriage wouldn't do me any favors."
"Then why'd you sign?" Emily asked, then waved her hand. "Never mind, I know. Family pressure, resource exchange, your mother's expectations. But honestly, your decision not to renew—best call I've heard in a long time. This guy only drags down your standards."
I lifted my coffee, said nothing.
"Actually..." I began slowly, "before I proposed the contract marriage, I'd heard Rowan had a girl he 'looked after.'"
Emily raised an eyebrow. "Nora?"
"Yeah. But back then I thought it was just him helping out a friend's sister." My fingers traced the cup rim again. "Lucas Kane is his close friend. Looking out for Lucas's sister seemed reasonable. And Nora was still in Europe then, only came back occasionally. Him helping her out—I didn't think much of it."
"But later?"
"About a year into the marriage." My voice stayed level. "I noticed the 'looking after' became more frequent. She started showing up at convenient moments—business dinners, charity auctions, family gatherings. Sometimes Lucas brought her. Sometimes she just 'happened' to be there."
"And Rowan would go talk to her?"
"More than talk." I said. "Get her champagne. Introduce her to important people. Step in when someone gave her a hard time. Like a... knight in shining armor."
"And you?"
"I stood ten feet away," my tone remained steady, "making small talk with the other wives, discussing charity projects and fashion week. Like a good contract wife."
Emily didn't speak, just watched me.
"Maybe she does still have feelings for him," I continued. "First love from college—that's not easy to let go. Maybe she's just fighting for what she wants. I don't blame her, Emily. The problem isn't the third party."
"The problem is Rowan," Emily finished for me.
"Right." I nodded. "If I can't win him over, there's no point forcing it."
Emily studied me for several seconds, then said, "You know what? Sometimes I'm genuinely impressed by your ability to separate emotion from logic."
"It's not an ability," I said. "It's self-preservation."
"I know." She sighed. "But self-preservation doesn't mean you're not hurt."
"I never said I wasn't hurt." I lifted my cup. "I just don't let the hurt cloud my judgment."
Emily said nothing more, just reached over and squeezed my hand briefly. "So what's your plan now?"
"Finish the work I've got," I said. "Make sure Reynolds's European expansion goes smoothly. Then when the contract's up, I walk."
"That simple?"
"That simple."
"But..." Emily hesitated. "The timing's terrible. Your dad just got arrested, Nexus stock is tanking, your mom's under massive pressure. Terminating the contract now—your position gets even harder."
I was quiet for a moment.
"So?" I asked.
"So maybe you should consider..." Emily chose her words carefully, "giving yourself more leverage before you terminate. You're lead counsel on his European expansion. You've got resources. If you could help stabilize your mom's situation at Nexus before you leave, at least you'd exit on better terms."
"Emily." I looked at her. "I won't do that."
"Why not?" She looked confused. "It's not revenge—it's protecting yourself."
"Because that's not my style," I said. "I'm ending this contract because I want freedom. Not because I want to use him. If I finish things that way, how am I any different from him?"
Emily stared at me for a long moment, then smiled—the kind of smile that held both resignation and admiration.
"Alright, you win," she said. "But if you need help, tell me."
"I will."
She checked her watch and stood. "I've got an appointment. You sure you're okay?"
"Positive."
"Good." She grabbed her coat. "Remember—you're not alone in this."
"I know."
She waved and left.
---
I stayed in the café another ten minutes, finishing my coffee.
Outside the window, pedestrians passed by, sunlight slanting across the sidewalk. An ordinary Saturday morning. The world kept turning, indifferent to whether my marriage was falling apart.
I picked up my phone and looked at that post one more time.
Rowan's hand on Nora's waist. Same position he used with me.
I closed the screen, gathered my bag, and stood.
I could hold it together.
I always had.