The mansion felt colder that night.
Not because of the weather.
Because of the silence.
Amelia stood in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection.
Fraud suspect.
Gold digger.
Opportunist.
The words echoed in her mind like poison.
Downstairs, the news played quietly in the living room.
"…sources suggest the investigation may expand…"
She turned it off.
But she couldn't turn off the feeling.
The doubt.
Not his doubt.
Her own.
What if this ruins him?
Footsteps echoed behind her.
Alexander entered the bedroom, loosening his tie.
Long day.
Meetings.
Lawyers.
Damage control.
He looked tired.
But still controlled.
Always controlled.
"PR contained the investor panic," he said calmly. "Stock dipped three percent. It will recover."
She stared at him.
"That's what you're worried about?"
He paused.
"What should I be worried about?"
Her chest tightened.
"My name."
"It's being handled."
"Handled?" she repeated sharply.
"Yes."
That word snapped something inside her.
"I'm not a crisis to manage, Alexander!"
His eyes hardened slightly.
"And I'm not panicking."
"You never panic!"
The words came out louder than she intended.
Good.
Let it out.
He straightened slowly.
"I don't see how panic improves the situation."
"It shows you care!"
The silence that followed was sharp.
He looked at her carefully.
"I care."
"No, you control."
Her breathing grew uneven.
"You talk about assets and strategy and damage containment like this is a quarterly report!"
His jaw tightened.
"And what would you prefer? That I lose my temper? That I scream? That I make reckless decisions?"
"Yes!" she burst out.
The word shocked even her.
She stepped closer.
"I want to know this affects you!"
"It does."
"You don't show it!"
"Because showing it doesn't solve anything."
Her eyes burned.
"I'm being dragged through the mud. My father is getting harassed. My old coworkers are being questioned. And you're talking about stock recovery!"
For the first time—
His composure cracked.
Slightly.
His voice lowered.
"Do you think I don't know that?"
"Then act like it!"
The tension between them snapped.
He took a step toward her.
"And what exactly do you want from me, Amelia?"
The way he said her name—
Sharp.
Frustrated.
Raw.
"I want you to stop acting like this is just business!"
"It is business."
The words hung in the air like a slap.
Her heart dropped.
There it is.
The truth.
She laughed bitterly.
"Right. Of course. I forgot."
"That's not what I meant."
"But it is," she whispered. "This marriage. This defense. This protection. It's strategy."
His hands clenched slightly at his sides.
"You think I'd risk my reputation for strategy alone?"
"I don't know what you'd risk! You don't let anyone see that far!"
Her voice cracked slightly.
She hated that.
Hated that he could see it.
He stepped closer again.
Close enough that the air between them felt electric.
"You think I'm calm because I don't care?" he asked quietly.
"Yes."
The word came out softer this time.
Honest.
Painfully honest.
Something shifted in his expression.
Not anger.
Not coldness.
Something deeper.
"You're wrong."
She held his gaze.
"Prove it."
The challenge wasn't mocking.
It was desperate.
He exhaled slowly.
Then—
For the first time since she met him—
He raised his voice.
"I have had three private investigators working nonstop since six this morning!"
She froze.
"I've frozen two board members' accounts because I suspect internal leaks!"
Her heart skipped.
"I've prepared legal action that could bury whoever did this!"
His chest rose and fell slightly faster now.
"And I've barely slept because I am making sure this doesn't touch you further."
Silence.
Heavy.
He stepped even closer.
His voice dropped again.
Low.
Intense.
"You think I'm not furious?"
She could see it now.
In his eyes.
In the tightness of his jaw.
The storm he keeps locked inside.
"I don't lose control," he continued quietly. "Because when I do… people get destroyed."
Her breath hitched.
"And I don't want you caught in that."
The confession shifted the air between them.
She hadn't expected that.
She hadn't expected him to sound… protective.
Personal.
"You should have told me," she whispered.
"I don't explain every move."
"I'm not one of your employees."
"No," he agreed.
Something in his tone changed.
"You're not."
The weight of those words lingered.
She swallowed.
"Then stop shutting me out."
He looked at her for a long moment.
And for once—
He didn't have a perfect response.
Silence stretched.
But it wasn't explosive anymore.
It was vulnerable.
Then she said something that changed everything.
"If this ruins you… I won't forgive myself."
His eyes sharpened.
"This doesn't ruin me."
"But if it does—"
"It won't."
She shook her head slightly.
"You're too confident."
"And you underestimate me."
"I don't."
Her voice softened.
"I just don't want to be the reason someone finally beats you."
The room went still.
He stepped forward.
Closing the last inch of space.
His hand lifted—
Slowly—
And brushed a strand of hair away from her face.
Gentle.
Unexpected.
"You are not my weakness," he said quietly.
His thumb lingered near her jaw.
"You're becoming the reason I fight harder."
Her heart slammed violently against her ribs.
That wasn't strategic.
That wasn't corporate.
That wasn't cold.
That was real.
She exhaled shakily.
"This is dangerous."
"Yes."
"Because if this becomes real…"
He didn't let her finish.
"It already is."
Silence.
Thick.
Charged.
No storm outside this time.
Just the one between them.
And neither of them stepped away.