His for a year. - Chapter 34: Chapter 34

The dining room fell into a cold, pin-drop silence as Zade walked in, the veins in his forearms pronounced, his jaw set like a well carved stone. Behind him, Leo followed quietly, his presence sharp as a shadow. All eyes were on Zade, but I only felt the weight of the air—thick with disbelief and judgment.
He stopped beside me, took my arm and pulled me up gently, carefully like I was a fragile object and stood in my front. I bowed my head behind him, unsure if I was meant to breathe or collapse.
“What is the meaning of this?” Eloise demanded sharply, her voice slicing through the room. “And what are you doing, Zade?”
Zade didn't answer immediately. Instead, he walked to the head of the table, the place he never claimed but now owned with his presence alone. He placed a thick folder on the dining table with a heavy thud. The sound echoed—final, damning.
He turned his gaze slowly from one face to the other—Eloise, Zara, his uncle, even Anna—each of them now frozen, their previous smugness draining like wine from a shattered glass.
“I’ve been doing my own investigation since this rumor started,” he said. “And I didn’t use my name. No one knew who I was. No one had a reason to lie or protect her. They told the truth. Because this,”—he flipped the folder open—“is the truth.”
He pulled out photographs—grainy stills from an old CCTV feed, time-stamped and dated. There I was, in my mask, struggling with a man in an alley, his face barely recognizable, but the aggression clear. Another picture—his mugshot.
“His name was Michael Dane,” he continued. “He had multiple assault charges, some involving minors. He was high the night he tried to rape her. He was drunk. She defended herself.”
Silence fell.
“She didn’t kill him. He fell, hit his head, and the injury caused a fatal internal bleed. It was a tragic accident. One that wouldn't have even gone to trial if she'd had the money or the support to speak up.”
I raised my head slightly, realization dawning. Boss Hector… the weird man he said had asked those same questions… it was Zade. He’d gone digging, not for his pride, not for his name, but for me. And he’d done it silently.
Eloise opened her mouth to argue, but he raised his hand.
“There’s more,” he said coldly.
He dropped a printed criminal history of the deceased man, police reports of the building collapse, statements from the club manager—his name redacted. Every piece of it… airtight.
“I also have written confirmation from the former club manager. And most importantly…” His voice tightened, “the CCTV footage was submitted anonymously to a neutral third-party investigator. And the file is sealed. If this information ever leaks again, whoever spreads it will face legal consequences.”
His eyes flashed toward Anna.
She blinked but said nothing, her lips had gotten pale, eyes narrowed.
He turned slowly. “You all sat here. Insulted her. Tried to humiliate her. And for what? A baseless rumor.”
“Zade—” Eloise tried to interrupt.
“No,” he cut in sharply. “You don’t get to speak right now, Mother.”
She gasped.
Zara rolled her eyes, trying to mumble something under her breath, but Zade’s gaze shut her up before she finished.
He breathed in slowly, then exhaled. “This is the last time any of you ever questions or attack my wife in my presence or absence. Do you understand?”
No one spoke. Not even a nod.
Leo stepped forward, standing by me now.
"I'd warned you all before. This should be the last time I will do that or you won't like the consequences that follows." Zade added.
He reached back, his hand finding mine. He gripped it firmly, his thumb brushing over my knuckles as if reminding me that I'm not alone.
“She’s my wife. And you will respect her!”
And with that, he walked out, pulling me with him, Leo close behind.
The silence we left behind was deafening.
Zade didn't say anything as he pulled me through the mansion hallways. His grip firm, his pace quick. Leo followed a few paces behind, silently watching the tension vibrating between us like a stretched wire.
He pushed the door to our wing open and we stepped inside. The moment it shut behind us, I pulled my hand out of his grasp.
“Don’t touch me,” I snapped.
He stopped, slowly turning to face me. His eyes searched mine, but I wasn't giving him softness this time
“You don’t get to play hero now,” I said, my voice tight with emotion. “You knew. You knew something was wrong. You could’ve just asked me. You could’ve come to me like a human being!”
“I didn’t know what to believe,” he said, jaw clenched. “You weren’t talking to me.”
“So your solution was to investigate me like a criminal?” My voice cracked. “Instead of asking me, you went behind my back. Let me drown in this house while you quietly played detective.”
Leo cleared his throat gently, trying to cut in. “Olive… he did it for you. He didn’t—”
“Oh, of course you would say that.” I turned to Leo, eyes sharp. “You’re his friend. His shadow. You don’t care how I feel about this. No one does.”
Leo looked away, as if accepting the blow silently.
Zade’s voice was low, but steel-threaded. “Don’t talk to him like that.”
“Oh, so now you care about respect?” I asked laughing bitterly. “You stood there like a savior, flashing files and footage while I was being crushed in that dinner room. You made it look like you believed in me all along. But the truth? You didn’t. Not until you saw proof.”
Zade moved closer, his eyes darkening. “I believed in you enough to find that proof. If I didn't, I wouldn't have gone all the way out.”
“Then why did you treat me like I was dirty?” I demanded, tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. “Why did you watch me fall apart and say nothing?”
“Because I didn’t know how to help you!” he exploded. “You shut me out, Olive! I didn’t want to push you further. I didn’t want to force anything. I did what I knew. I did what I could. I protected you.”
“Why do you do this? For yourself? For your family? For control?” I fired back.
“No. For you.”
The words hung there for a beat too long. My chest rose and fell, fast and unsteady.
“I didn’t need a knight in a custom suit,” I whispered. “I needed someone who trusted me.”
He stepped closer. “And I needed you to trust me enough to tell me.”
We were too close now—too angry, too hurt, too exposed. And then, all at once, the air between us shattered.
He grabbed me by the waist with one hand and the other at the back of my head, drew me close to him and grazed his lips with mine.
Then came the kiss he'd been teasing me with.
It wasn't soft. It was reckless, impulsive, full of everything neither of us had said aloud. His hands were rough at first, desperate, almost like he was anchoring himself to me. My fists were pressed against his chest, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer.
But my body trembled—and he felt it. So he gentled his movements and then the kiss.
I pulled back slightly, breathless, my lips parted, eyes glossy. My hands stayed on his chest, unsure of its purpose now.
“I hate you,” I whispered.
“No, you don’t,” he replied, voice low and hoarse. “You hate that you don’t.”
We stayed there, faces inches apart, the kiss still echoing in the air like thunder after a storm.
Behind us, Leo quietly let himself out, closing the door with a soft click.
I quickly made my way to the stairs.
Before he could say another word, before my knees gave way, before the heat of his mouth on mine burned deeper into my skin.
Immediately I got to my room, I slammed the door behind me.
The sound echoed down the hallway like a thunderclap.
My heart became a drumline. My pulse was everywhere—fingertips, neck, ears, chest.
He kissed me.
He kissed me!
And I let him.
God. My fingers curl into fists at my sides. A dozen questions spin around in my head, each louder than the last.
Why did he do that?
Why now?
What does he want from me?
It’s not fair.
He gets to stand there like some marble statue of justice, throwing down evidence and defending me in front of his family, like it makes up for the way he’s treated me. Like it’s love. And then—then—he has the audacity to kiss me as if he was allowed to.
As if he meant it.
He doesn’t get to confuse me like this.
He doesn’t get to pretend he cares when he’s made me feel like dirt since day one. He can’t say nothing, do nothing when I was being torn apart—and then swoop in with perfect timing and expect me to melt.
But the worst part?
I did melt.
My lips still tingled. My chest still ached with how badly I wanted to hold on, to forget everything just for a moment and let myself believe it meant something.
But I remember.
I remembered hearing him and Leo talking.
“I was just bored” “It’s just lust.”
Why was he treating me like my feelings were background noises in his neat, calculated world?
I let out a shaky breath, pressing my knuckles to my lips like that might erase the memory of him.
It doesn’t.
God, how is it possible to feel this broken and wanted at the same time?
A tear slipped down my cheek, and I quickly wiped it away.
No more crying. Not for him.
I paced. Slowly at first, then faster. My heels thud against the polished floor, echoing back at me like mockery. I should feel relieved—he cleared my name. He walked into that room like some beautifully broken knight and defended me, threw his title and voice over the fire to end this torture.
But all I feel is hollow. And used. And... dizzy.
He knew. Zade knew. He investigated the truth behind my past without even telling me. Did he think I couldn’t handle it? That I didn’t deserve to know he believed me?
Or worse... did he only believe me once he had the paperwork?
I wiped my face roughly with my palms and continued to drag myself around my room. The mirror caught me mid-motion—hair loose, eyes red, dress rumpled from where I clenched my fists. I looked like I was haunted.
I whispered to my reflection, “Why does it hurt more that he kissed me than all the things they said about me?”
No answer.
Just me.
Just the girl who keeps forgetting this marriage is a contract. An agreement. A lie wrapped in silk and diamond rings.
I walked to the bed and sat, numb, my hands in my lap. My eyes on the wedding ring on my finger. I twisted it. Took it off. Then slipped it back on.
I don’t know who I am anymore. Not in this house. Not to them. Not to him.
And worse—I don’t know what I want from him. An apology? An explanation? Another kiss?
I covered my face again, ashamed.
Because somewhere deep down... I wanted more of that kiss from him.
And that terrified me more than anything else.