His for a year. - Chapter 20: Chapter 20

Morning came with a quiet hush. I realized I had fallen asleep on the chaise lounge, waiting for Zade—who never showed up, never called, or even sent a text.
A hollow ache settled in my chest. I felt betrayed, though I know I didn't have the right to. How could he say I was his wife so casually one moment and then vanish like I didn’t exist?
The silence screamed louder than any fight.
My gaze dropped to the wedding ring on my finger. Shiny. Cold. Pretty. Fake.
My brain was quick to remind me. This was all an arrangement. A deal. A transaction wrapped in gold and diamonds. And it shouldn't be more than that.
I let out a heavy sigh.
No texts. No instructions. Nothing. It was strange. The quiet around me felt too heavy, too careful—like the house was waiting for something to happen.
I looked around my room, the sunlight creeping through the floor-length windows. What was I supposed to do in this mansion alone?
I paced for a while.
Sat.
Paced again.
And then the days blurred into each other.
A whole week.
That’s how long it had been since I last saw Zade.
Not in the hallway, not at the dining table, not on the stairs.
Nowhere.
Just one message, five days ago:
“I’ve been busy with work. Stay away from trouble.”
No call. No follow-up. Just that one dry sentence that gave nothing away. Almost felt like he'd been intentionally avoiding me, even though I knew Zade wouldn't bother himself with something like that.
I tried to distract myself—reading, wandering the halls, talking to the staff even though I knew half of them were trained not to say much. I binge-watched shows I wasn’t following, took long baths I couldn’t enjoy, stared at the same three unread texts from Amanda and Aliyah.
And still, nothing from him.
Until tonight.
I had just curled up under my duvet, staring blankly at the ceiling, when my phone lit up.
“Come to my room. The office.”
I sat up straight.
My chest tightened with something sharp and uncertain. I didn’t bother to overthink. I slipped out of bed, threw on a robe, and padded through the dimly lit halls, my heart drumming like it knew something I didn’t.
Zade’s room was quiet when I reached it, the door slightly ajar.
He was there—
Sitting behind the massive desk in his suite’s private office, a soft amber lamp glowing beside him. His tie was loose, the first few buttons of his shirt undone. His fingers tapped lightly on a file in front of him.
He didn’t look up at first. Just gestured to the seat across from him.
I sat, every nerve on edge.
Finally, he looked at me.
His eyes weren’t angry. Not cold either. But there was something else behind them—something unsure. Almost... conflicted.
“What do you know about your father?” His voice was quiet, but heavy. Like the words cost something.
My mouth went dry.
“What?”
He leaned forward slightly. His gaze held mine.
“Your father. What do you know about him, Olive?”
A cold chill tiptoed down my spine.
The way he asked—it wasn’t casual. It wasn’t curious.
It was like he’d discovered something. Something that shifted things.
And I suddenly wasn’t sure I was ready to hear it.
I cleared my throat, unsure if I should tell him the truth or even half the truth. “Did something happen?” I asked.
“I ask the questions here Olive.”
I didn't like how my name came out of his mouth, it was comforting or cool, it was heavy and threatening.
“He left. Two years ago.” I said, my fingers fidgeting with my ring.
“What did your father do before he disappeared?” He adjusted on his chair. “Like his work”.
This was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.
“Um, he um, he worked in like, a company similar to yours.” I stuttered.
His eyes were piercing, like he knew I wasn't saying everything.
“He was working on building a firm, like yours. It didn't work out and he suddenly disappeared from frustration, I guess. At least that's one of the rumours on the street.” I said, my head bowed.
He stood from his chair and walked toward me, each step echoing in the room, my heart beat faster. He stopped in front of me, enough to make me look up.
His hands in his pockets and eyes staring down at me made him look like a giant ready to crush an ant, his jawline was sharp from how he clenched it. His Adam apple moved in a way that was unsettling.
I didn't know the uneasiness I felt with him standing directly in front of me like that, my stomach churned, from so many emotions; want, fear and uncertainty.
“Is that all you know?” His deep voice filled the room.
I knew I couldn't afford to say anything stupid or contradicting, he was definitely on a mission to intimidate me into spilling a detail.
I had to use all of my brain.
“Is there something in particular you want to know?” I asked, my voice low and shaky.
He smirked and walked back to his chair.
“You're becoming a good actor giving your stay here.” He leaned in his chair, his two hands on his chin, swaying left and right.
“You approached me knowing that our fathers were partners, and now you're acting oblivious to the fact.” He chuckled. It was scary.
I needed a minute to process everything he had just said. Our fathers were partners?
He stood up again, pacing slowly across the room. Each of his footsteps echoed like thunder in a tunnel, amplifying the tension already tightening my chest.
“I was wondering why you pulled that act in school,” he said, voice low but sharp, his gaze drifting like he wasn't speaking to me. “Why you picked me. I wasn’t the only rich guy in college. But you—you knew exactly who I was. The son of your father's former partner. You planned everything.”
His tone turned cold, detached.
“Everything was executed perfectly. And I fell for it. Like a fool.”
He stopped and finally looked at me. Dead in the eyes.
“Why, Olive? Was it for revenge? Are you trying to ruin the Avners from the inside out? You think we caused your father's misfortune?”
I stood up too fast, anger and fear welling up in me, my robe tangling at my feet. “Zade, no. I swear I don't know what you're talking about. This is the first time I'm hearing all of this.”
My voice cracked. My hands trembled.
He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “Don’t lie to me. Just come clean. I have proof.”
He walked back to his desk and picked up a USB stick.
That’s when I saw it.
The same USB Anna planted between the files on his desk that night.
My breath stopped.
She framed me.
And she knew more than I thought she did.
“Zade, please listen to me,” I said, my voice rising with urgency. “Someone is trying to set me up. I saw her. Anna. She snuck into your room the other day and planted that USB. I swear on everything, I didn’t know about our fathers. I didn’t even know they had a connection.”
He stepped closer, rage tightening his jaw. “You saw her?”
I nodded, frantically. “Yes. I didn't know what it was until now. But I saw her. She made a call, acted weird, then placed something on your desk.”
“Enough!” he roared.
He shoved his hand through his hair, breathing hard. “You expect me to believe that after everything with David? You come into my life, pretending to be innocent, and now you want me to believe Anna is the villain?”
“Because she is!” I shouted back. “You’re not seeing it, Zade. She hates me. She always has. She said she’d make me suffer.”
He raised his hand suddenly, then pulled it back just as fast, like he realized what he was about to do.
But when he stepped back, his arm knocked into my shoulder hard. I staggered.
Tripped.
And hit the edge of the glass coffee table with a sharp cry.
Pain exploded in my side.
He froze. “Olive.”
I curled slightly, clutching my ribs, trying not to sob.
He dropped to his knees beside me, hands hovering but not touching. “Olive—I didn’t mean to—I didn’t know you were behind me. Shit.”
Tears streamed down my face, from the pain, from everything.
“Don’t touch me,” I whispered.
“I came here with a clean heart,” I said hoarsely. “You don’t believe me. That’s fine. But don’t you dare call me a liar after everything I’ve been through. And don't talk about my father that way.”
I pushed myself up, slowly, gritting my teeth against the pain.
Zade stood too, his hands trembling slightly. His expression was unreadable now—a storm of guilt, anger, and confusion.
And then came the silence.
The dangerous, aching silence that stretched between two people who had once trusted each other.
And now stood on opposite sides of a battlefield.
I didn't know what to do so I stormed out of his office, my breath uneven. My vision became blurry, not from anger—but from the tears I was desperately trying to suppress. My fists clenched at my sides, my nails digging into my palms.
As I turned into the hallway, the tall silhouette in front of my room made me halt.
Ray.
Still standing, arms folded, shoulders square—the ever loyal bodyguard. But this time, his gaze met mine differently. Not with the usual silent deference. This time, it was something else.
Pity.
He didn't speak. Didn’t move. Just looked at me with an expression that said 'I heard what happened. I know.'
That almost broke me.
I lowered my head and walked past him without a word, unlocking my door with trembling fingers.
Once inside, I turned the key and pressed the lock down with finality. Then I rested my back against the door and let go.
The tears came silently at first, trickling down my cheeks, warm and bitter. Then in waves—ugly, aching sobs that tore through my chest. I slid down to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest.
I didn't know what hurt me more, the fact that I never knew about my dad or that Zade doesn't believe me or that Anna is doing well in ruining me.
I didn’t know how long I cried. Long enough for my throat to sting and my eyes to feel hollow. And still, Zade never came. To apologize for the injury.
It was already afternoon, I should have felt better. But instead, all I felt was the dull ache in my elbow and the sting beneath it—like a reminder that I wasn’t safe. Not even in this house.
Ray walked in, holding a first aid kit. I didn't ask why he came in or what he wanted. I knew what he wanted.
I sat quietly on the edge of the long chaise, holding my robe tighter around me as Ray cleaned the wound. His brows were knit in concentration, and his touch was gentle, like he was afraid to hurt me any more than I already was.
“You should’ve called me last night,” he said, his voice low but firm. “I expected you to.”
“I didn’t want to bother anyone,” I whispered, watching the antiseptic foam rise slightly against my skin. “And it's not in your job description to dress my wounds.”
Ray paused. “You need to be careful around him. I know Mr Zade. I know how far he can go when his emotions take over.” His brows furrowed in concern.
I nodded slowly.
He didn’t speak for a moment, only dabbed a little more carefully. “He should be protecting you, not bruising you.”
Just then, the faintest movement caught the corner of my eye—a blur of shadow just beyond the hallway. Someone had walked past. Quiet. Swift. Too calculated to be a coincidence.
Ray noticed it too. His head lifted slightly, eyes narrowing toward the open door.
Zade.