The penthouse felt like a fortress under siege by lunchtime. Emma counted six different news vans parked outside the building, their satellite dishes pointed skyward like metal flowers blooming toward scandal. Her phone had been ringing nonstop until she'd finally turned it off, but not before catching glimpses of the headlines that were already spreading across social media like wildfire.
*KNIGHT'S SHOCKING SECRET WEDDING*
*BILLIONAIRE'S BRIDE: GOLD DIGGER OR TRUE LOVE?*
*THE ARTIST AND THE EMPIRE: INSIDE ALEXANDER KNIGHT'S SURPRISE MARRIAGE*
Each headline felt like a small knife between her ribs. The photos were even worse—grainy shots of her leaving the courthouse in her wedding dress, looking pale and overwhelmed. Some enterprising photographer had even dug up pictures of her old apartment, her mother's medical bills somehow splashed across gossip websites like evidence in a trial.
Emma was studying her reflection in the bathroom mirror, trying to see what the world saw—opportunistic gold digger or desperate daughter?—when Maria appeared in the doorway.
"Mrs. Knight? There's someone here to see you."
Emma's heart lurched. "Alexander?"
"No, ma'am. A Miss Sophia Knight. She's waiting in the living room."
Of course she was. Emma closed her eyes, gathering what remained of her courage. "Tell her I'll be right there."
Sophia stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows, her silhouette sharp against the Manhattan skyline. She'd traded yesterday's navy suit for cream silk and pearls, looking every inch the society princess she'd been born to be. When she turned, her smile was razor-thin and completely without warmth.
"Well, well. Mrs. Alexander Knight." Sophia's voice dripped with false sweetness. "How does it feel to wake up famous?"
Emma kept her expression neutral. "What do you want, Sophia?"
"To offer my congratulations, of course. And to discuss how we're going to handle this little... situation." Sophia moved to the white leather sofa, settling herself with practiced grace. "Do sit down, dear. We have so much to talk about."
Emma remained standing. "I'm fine here."
"Suit yourself." Sophia opened her designer purse, pulling out her phone. "Have you seen the news? The speculation is quite creative. My personal favorite is the theory that you seduced my brother for his money after your mother's medical bills bankrupted you."
Heat flashed through Emma's chest. "You leaked the story."
"Me?" Sophia's laugh was musical and cold. "What a terrible accusation. Though I will admit, the timing is rather convenient."
"Convenient for what?"
"For reminding everyone—including my dear brother—exactly what this marriage really is." Sophia's eyes glittered with malicious satisfaction. "A business transaction between a desperate woman and a man too damaged to know better."
Emma's hands clenched into fists at her sides. "You know nothing about—"
"About what? Love?" Sophia's smile turned vicious. "Oh, sweetheart, you're not falling for him already, are you? How deliciously pathetic."
Before Emma could respond, the elevator chimed, and Alexander strode into the penthouse like a storm given human form. His usually immaculate hair was disheveled, his tie loosened, and there was something dangerous blazing in his gray eyes that made Emma's breath catch.
"Sophia." His voice could have frozen hellfire. "What are you doing here?"
"Welcoming your bride to the family, of course." Sophia rose gracefully, but Emma caught the slight tension in her shoulders. "We were just discussing how to handle the media attention."
Alexander's gaze moved between the two women, taking in Emma's defensive posture and Sophia's satisfied expression. "Get out."
"Alexander—"
"Now." The word cracked like a whip. "Before I say something we'll both regret."
Sophia's mask slipped for just a moment, revealing something that looked almost like hurt. Then it was back in place, cold and perfect and utterly untouchable.
"Of course, brother dear. I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome." She moved toward the elevator with fluid grace, but paused at Emma's side. "A word of advice, Mrs. Knight. In our world, the wives who get too attached tend to have tragic accidents. Ask Isabella."
The elevator doors closed on Sophia's smile, leaving Emma and Alexander alone in the sudden, suffocating silence. Emma's mind reeled with the implications of Sophia's parting shot.
"Who's Isabella?" Emma asked quietly.
Alexander went very still. When he looked at her, his face was a mask of ice and shadows. "My first wife."
The words hit Emma like a physical blow. Alexander had mentioned his wife's death in passing, but he'd never said her name, never given her a face or personality. Isabella. It was a beautiful name, the kind that belonged to someone who'd never had to choose between pride and survival.
"Sophia seems to think she died because she got too attached to you."
"Sophia says a lot of things." Alexander loosened his tie completely, pulling it free with sharp, angry movements. "Most of them designed to cause maximum damage."
"But was she right?" Emma pressed, needing to understand the warning Sophia had delivered with such poisonous precision. "Did your wife die because someone thought she was a weakness?"
Alexander's hands stilled on his shirt buttons. For a long moment, the only sound was the distant hum of traffic forty floors below. When he finally spoke, his voice was raw with something that might have been pain.
"Isabella died in a car accident on the FDR Drive three years ago. The police said it was mechanical failure—a brake line that snapped at exactly the wrong moment." He moved to the bar, pouring himself three fingers of whiskey despite the early hour. "But I've made a lot of enemies over the years, Emma. And my wife's accident was very convenient for some of them."
The implication hung in the air like smoke. Emma sank onto the sofa, her legs suddenly unsteady. "You think someone killed her."
"I think Isabella paid the price for loving me." Alexander's smile was sharp enough to draw blood. "And I swore it would never happen again."
"Is that why you wanted a marriage without emotions? Without..." She gestured helplessly between them. "Without whatever this is?"
Alexander's eyes snapped to hers, and the air crackled with sudden tension. "What is this, Emma?"
The question was loaded with danger and possibility in equal measure. Emma could feel her heart racing, could taste the metallic tang of fear and something else—something that felt dangerously like longing.
"I don't know," she whispered.
Alexander set down his glass with deliberate care and moved toward her with predatory grace. When he reached the sofa, he braced his hands on either side of her, caging her between his arms. This close, she could see the gold flecks in his gray eyes, could smell the subtle cologne that made her think of dark promises.
"That makes two of us," he said, his voice rough with an emotion she couldn't name. "But whatever it is, it's going to get you killed if we're not careful."
Emma's breath hitched as he leaned closer, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body. "Then maybe we shouldn't be careful."
Something flashed in Alexander's eyes—surprise, hunger, and something that looked almost like fear. For a heartbeat, Emma thought he might kiss her again, might give in to whatever was building between them like a gathering storm.
Instead, he pulled back abruptly, running a hand through his dark hair. "The board meeting has been moved up. They want to discuss the impact of our marriage on company stability." His tone was business-like again, but Emma caught the slight tremor in his hands. "You'll need to attend."
"Me?" Emma's voice came out as a squeak. "I can't—I don't know anything about business meetings or boards or—"
"You know how to survive." Alexander's smile was sharp and somehow proud. "That's more than most of them can say."
Before Emma could protest further, Alexander's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and his expression darkened.
"What is it?" Emma asked.
"Richard Hale has called an emergency shareholders' meeting." Alexander's voice was deadly quiet. "He's going to try to remove me as CEO. And our marriage—" He looked at her with something that might have been regret. "Our marriage just gave him the ammunition he needed."
Emma's blood ran cold. "What do you mean?"
"He's going to argue that my judgment is compromised. That marrying a woman I barely know proves I'm unfit to lead a billion-dollar company." Alexander's laugh was bitter. "And the hell of it is, he might not be wrong."
Outside, storm clouds gathered over Manhattan like an omen. Emma could see the news vans still clustered below, hungry sharks waiting for blood in the water.
"What happens if he succeeds?" she asked quietly.
Alexander's smile was all sharp edges and deadly intent. "Then I lose everything I've built. And you, Mrs. Knight, become a very wealthy widow."
The threat in his voice wasn't directed at her, but Emma felt it like ice water in her veins. She was beginning to understand that in Alexander Knight's world, love wasn't just a luxury—it was a death sentence.
And despite every logical reason to run, despite the danger and the threats and the way her husband looked at her like she was both salvation and destruction, Emma realized she was already falling.
The only question was whether Alexander would catch her or let her burn.