Nadia woke to sunlight cutting across the penthouse windows. For a moment she forgot where she was—then she felt the faint weight of the duvet tucked under her arm, the subtle warmth of Tom's presence on the far side of the bed.
She sat up quickly, pulling her hair into order. Tom was already awake, propped against the headboard, scrolling through his phone as if this were the most natural thing in the world.
"Morning," he said casually, eyes not leaving the screen.
Nadia's throat tightened. "Morning."
Before she could escape to the bathroom, a knock came at the door.
"Forgive the intrusion," Vogel's voice carried through the wood. "I thought I heard movement."
Nadia froze.
Tom answered smoothly. "Come in."
The door opened, and there stood Marcus Vogel, already dressed in his crisp grey suit, every strand of hair in place. His eyes flicked to the bed—the unrumpled middle, the separate nightstands, the faint mess of pillows—and then to Nadia, who had gone still as stone.
"I wanted to thank you both for last night," Vogel said lightly. "It's rare to see such… cohesion. Especially in an arrangement as new as yours."
Nadia forced a smile. "We manage."
Vogel's gaze lingered a second too long, as though he were weighing the truth of her words. Then he stepped back. "Breakfast, perhaps? I'd like to see how you start the day."
---
The kitchen felt like a stage. Tom made coffee while Nadia sliced fruit, every move calibrated. Vogel sat at the counter, hands folded, watching.
"You know," he said conversationally, "many couples in your position—wealth, power, rapid change—they fracture quickly. One pursues ambition, the other resents it. But you two seem aligned."
"That's because we are," Tom said without hesitation.
Nadia glanced at him, half-annoyed by how convincing he sounded.
Vogel leaned forward. "Alignment is rare. It requires trust."
The word hung in the air. Nadia set down the knife too sharply, the sound loud against the cutting board.
Tom covered effortlessly. "Trust is the foundation, isn't it?"
Vogel smiled faintly. "Yes. And it's fragile. Easy to test, easy to break."
---
After breakfast, Vogel prepared to leave. At the door, he turned to them both.
"Reinhardt will be pleased," he said. "But remember—this isn't a performance for me. It's a contract with each other. If either of you falters, Reinhardt won't hesitate to withdraw his support."
Nadia's pulse thudded. "We understand."
Vogel studied her for a long moment before finally shaking Tom's hand. "Until next time."
The door shut behind him. Silence expanded in the apartment.
Tom exhaled slowly. "We passed."
Nadia shot him a sharp look. "Did we? He saw everything."
Tom's eyes softened, though his tone stayed even. "That was the point."
She wanted to argue, to push back, to deny the flicker of relief she felt. But her words caught, and she turned away instead.
Because in the quiet aftermath of Vogel's test, she realized the truth was no longer simple.
They weren't just pretending.
And that, more than anything, terrified her.