Chapter7

**Unspoken Rules**

In the Sterling home, the days dragged on interminably into the sleepless nights. There appeared to be regulations in every part of the house, either inferred by icy looks or whispered. I soon discovered that Jack's universe functioned on a different axis, where emotions were liabilities and power controlled every action.

The large distance between Jack and me felt like a chasm as I sat at the edge of the dining table. He sipped his coffee without looking up, his attention absorbed in the papers arranged in front of him. There was a noticeable hush between us, weighed down by everything that was not discussed.

Desperate to break the suffocating silence, I cleared my throat. "Do you always work during breakfast?"

His pen scratched the page as he took a moment to reply. His demeanor was as bland as his tone when he eventually spoke. "If I didn’t, things wouldn’t get done."

He said something that hurt more than it should have. I intended to respond by pointing out that careful preparation and spreadsheets aren't always the answer to life's problems. But I was cautioned against it by the stern set of his jaw. Jack Sterling did not enjoy being interrupted, even by his alleged spouse.

I retreated to the solarium, the one area of the house where I felt like I could breathe, as the remainder of breakfast went by in tense silence. The marble floor was bathed in a warm glow as the sunlight poured through the big glass windows. I let myself unwind for a while by leaning on the chaise's arm and shutting my eyes.

Here, however, the calm was short-lived. It was always that way.

A voice said, "Madam Sterling," interrupting my thoughts. The housekeeper, Mrs. Whitmore, was standing rigidly in the doorway as I opened my eyes. Her hands were neatly clenched in front of her, and her face was as unreadable as ever. "Mr. Sterling has requested your presence in his office."

My stomach grew constricted. "Did he say why?"

"No, ma'am. Just that it was urgent.

I got up from the chaise and smoothed my dress after nodding. It seemed like a march to the gallows on the way to Jack's office. I detested feeling as though I was a stranger in my own life. However, each encounter with Jack merely served to further cement our increasing separation. He kept me at a distance, a ghost that lurked on the periphery of his well-regimented life.

Jack was standing near the window with his back to me when I walked into his office. He turned slightly at the sound of the door, his face in shadow as the late morning light defined his broad shoulders.

"You wanted to see me?" Trying to speak steadily, I asked.

He pointed to the seat in front of his workstation. "Sit."

I obeyed, waiting for him to say something while folding my hands in my lap. His motions were deliberate and precise as he made his way to the desk. "You've been here for weeks now," he started, looking directly into my eyes. "I think it’s time we established a few rules."

Regulations. There were rules, of course.

"Such as?" I forced myself to look him in the eye as I asked.

His hands were on the edge of the desk as he leaned forward. "I demand discretion first. Anything you hear or see in this house remains within. Second, if necessary, you will go with me to public gatherings. No justifications.

"And third?" I asked, sounding colder than I meant to.

A sardonic smile twisted his lips. "You don’t ask questions you’re not prepared to hear the answers to."

His words, with their implied threat, made me snarl. "And what happens if I break these rules?"

"Don’t," he replied plainly, in a tone that made no room for debate. "This marriage may be a facade, but I expect you to play your part."

I still had a bad taste in my mouth from the conversation. I felt like a piece in a game I didn't comprehend when I left his office. Although the guidelines he had established were unambiguous, they simply served to increase the mystery surrounding him. What did he conceal? What was the reason behind his extreme measures to safeguard it?

I had trouble sleeping after that night. The house was still, and the shadows in my room's corners appeared darker than normal. Jack's remarks kept coming back to me as I tossed and twisted.

You don't pose inquiries that you aren't ready to get responses to.

By that, what did he mean? What answers did he fear I might discover?

I couldn't stay in bed, so I started to walk around the halls again, heading toward the west wing of the home. Jack had made it clear to me that it was forbidden, therefore I had never gone there before. However, his caution simply piqued my interest.

The air seemed colder than the rest of the home, and the corridor was eerily quiet. As I got closer to the door at the end of the hall, my heartbeat accelerated. Unlike the others, it was heavier and had a polished brass handle that shone brightly even in the low light.

My hand lingered over the handle as I hesitated. A part of me begged me to go back and honor Jack's boundaries. But I had to keep going because of another part, the part that required answers. Startled to discover the door unlocked, I grabbed the handle and turned it.

The air was heavy with the smell of aged wood and something slightly metallic, and the room beyond was black. My fingers brushed the cool wall as I struggled for a light switch, finally finding one. A room that seemed completely out of place in the Sterling estate was revealed by the flickering overhead light.

It was some kind of archive, with shelves crammed with ledgers, paperwork, and photos. In the middle was a big desk with papers all over it. With my heart thumping in my chest, I entered.

I glanced at one of the pictures on the desk. They weren't grinning, but it was the same girl and boy from the photo in Jack's study. With her arm wrapped protectively around the boy, the woman's face was marked with worry. I took it up with trembling fingers and turned it over to read the writing on the back: *He'll find us*

I froze before I could comprehend what I was seeing because of a voice behind me.

"I warned you not to come here."

When I turned around, I saw Jack standing in the doorway, his eyes burning with something I couldn't understand but his face unreadable. Fury? Fear? But whatever it was, it made me shiver.

"What is this?" I held out the picture and asked. "Who are they?"

Jack's presence was oppressive when he entered the room. "You just couldn’t stay out of it, could you?"

"I deserve to know the truth," I murmured, shakily. "Jack, who are you really? What are you concealing, too?

He didn't respond. Instead, he grabbed the picture and pulled it from me, his fingertips grazing mine. He replied softly, "You should’ve stayed in your lane, Amelia," in an almost regretful tone. "Now it’s too late."

"Too late for what?" He didn't respond when I asked him to.

Taking the picture with him, Jack turned and walked out of the room. His words replayed in my head as I stood there, my heart pounding. Whatever I had discovered was larger than I had anticipated. I also got

the depressing thought that things would never be the same in my life again.