Chapter 147 Alexander

Chapter 147 Talia
He caught her hand before she could pull away, holding it gently against his chest. Then he looked at her, straight, that familiar certainty in his eyes, the same look that had once made her believe he was the only man in her world who mattered most after her dad.

He leaned in and dropped a soft romantic kiss on her lips.

Without hesitation, she grabbed him back, and allowed the moment to settle by kissing him back. But her eyes held a dark glow. 

She smiled when he looked, giving no hint. 

As if she had no idea where he had been. No idea who he had been building another life with. No idea that the woman who had walked into her boutique that morning had been speaking about his money, about his achievements with her, right in front of his own wife.

She smiled anyway. Like she knew nothing at all.

They later sat across from each other at the dining table. Archer ate the meal she had prepared, occasionally glancing at his phone, replying to emails between bites as if the evening were just another item to get through.

His wife didn't really matter. 

Amber watched him for a moment longer, then lifted her wine glass.

Her thoughts shifted back to the stockroom. She remembered the metal rack she had gripped with both hands until her palms hurt. About those four minutes she had allowed herself to break before pulling herself back together.

Then her mind moved, to a villa in the hills. A contract. A laughing voice saying per baby over boutique coffee, as if it were nothing more than a casual detail in a very comfortable life.

She took a slow sip of wine, keeping her face cool as she sat across from him.

Not yet, she reminded herself quietly.

Under the table, out of sight, she opened her phone and created a new note. Her fingers moved, typing only three words before she set it aside again.

“He doesn’t know.”

Of her plan. 

And for now, she would let it stay like that, until the day she decided it no longer had to be.

CHAPTER 3: THE MARRIAGE BEHIND THE MARRIAGE

Amber was still curled beneath the sheets when Archer’s alarm shattered the quiet of the early morning at exactly six. 

He leaned across her to turn it off, his arm draping over her waist. 

She didn’t move, didn’t even open her eyes. There was no point pretending she’d just woken, sleep had abandoned her hours ago.

For nearly two hours, she had lain there, perfectly calm. But it wasn't so. Her mind had wandered elsewhere, through brags of shell companies, the weight of villa keys she had never seen, and the echo of a woman’s laughter, light and careless, drifting over the rim of an overpriced boutique coffee as she spoke about contracts like they were nothing at all.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep. 

“Morning,” she replied quietly.

He shifted closer, closing the space between them. His hand found her swiftly, gliding from her shoulder, down the length of her arm, settling along the curve of her waist with so much ease. 

She didn’t need to look to know exactly what he was doing. She knew where it was going but kept cool. 

It has been a five years morning ritual. 

She had loved that once, when it felt so real and not an illusion. 

He pressed a kiss to her neck, lifting his face up to smile at her. Then he began to caress her body, from her neck down to her chin, while kissing her forehead, neck, boobs, every part of her body.

Her hands grabbed his arms, about to stop him but she halted in thoughts, then sighted briefly. Archer said nothing, he asked nothing. Seems he knew what he was doing. 

She didn’t stop him. From kissing her tongue intensely to his fingers, they were caressing her clit, but not even the slightest reaction came from her body. 

Her mind was cold and gone, far away. 

Archer's fingers worked harder, supposedly to force wet her. Amber hissed beneath her breath. “Let's see who gets defeated.” 

Little did Archer knew she wasn't the Amber he knew. 

As the foreplay became intense, and Archer was strongly erect, he began to slide inside her pussy and thrust, the thrusting started in a gentle way, then became harder. 

His hands slid to and fro her pussy, trying to induce wetness. Feeling nothing, his face twisted. 

“What's going on?” He gasped. 

“Not in the mood,” she growled. 

“Don't worry, I'll make you.” He said, earning a smirk from Amber. 

She kept her gaze fixed on the ceiling above his shoulder, eyes open but distant, and felt nothing except a slow, creeping disgust curling deep in her bones. It was really suffocating. But she was going to prove it to him. 

She was already gone and not getting wet for him might be the most she could do at thid point. Amber really wanted rising and getting the hell out of here.

When she glared at the time, she jumped up with a deep breath. “I need to prepare for the day,” she said and was already climbing off the bed leaving Archer staring in shock. 

At the bathroom, she switched on thr tap. The water ran. It took her barely twenty minutes. She got dried and headed to the dressing room. 

Archer followed suit, preparing to go to the office. Amber paused, staring with deep thoughts atbthe empty space in front of her. Her mind played him going out to Celine, having fun with her. 

She rolled her fingers over her eyes trying to keep her eyes dry. She shrugged, nodding a vow. 

The wardrobe creaked open the next minute. Metal tapped softly against wood as his cufflinks met the dresser.

Before now, she would have rushed to hug him because she would be missing him for the rest of the day. Such special treatment was gone. She didn't even turn. 

His presence made her stomach twist. She stood there, moving through clothes, staring ahead, fighting the sudden, rising urge to be sick.

She shrugged into her robe with steady hands. Then she went to the kitchen to make her coffee, what she did every morning. Routine. 

He walked into the kitchen in his grey suit, the one that cost more than most people’s monthly rent. It fit him perfectly. It always did. 

That was part of it, part of his quiet, infuriating cruelty, the way he wrapped himself in dresses so polished, so effortlessly, that it's almost impossible to ignore.

Amber passed a cup of coffee without efen looking at him, his thumb briefly grazing her knuckles before he turned it in his hand.

“You’re quiet this morning,” he spewed.

“Tired,” she replied, keeping her tone flat.

His attention was already elsewhere, eyes on his phone, mind moving ahead of the room. “I’ll be late tonight. Board prep.”

“Okay,” she said.

Simple. No questions. No ‘I wish you always return earlier.’ 

He pressed a brief kiss to her forehead, reached for his briefcase, and left without another pause.

Amber stayed in the kitchen long after the door closed. At the window, she watched his car ease out of the driveway and vanish down the street.

Her coffee cooled between both hands as she stood perfectly still, breathing slowly, gradually digging her fingers into her hair and flipping it over. 

Her lips twisted. She turned without a word and went to his home office.

The space still had his scent, cedarwood, leather, and the faint ghost of a cologne she had once given him for an anniversary he probably remembered only the following day.  

She paused in the doorway, not stepping in right away, just standing there and letting the room settle around her like something already waiting.

The mahogany desk dominated the room. Framed magazine covers lined the walls, Calloway Global, The Empire Built on Vision. 

His face stared back from each one,  sharp jaw, steady gaze, that fake smile that looked so real if you didn’t know how to read it properly.

Amber crossed the room and sat in his chair.

She opened his laptop.

Password needed.