His for a year. - Chapter 47: Chapter 47
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I woke up to a dull ache in my chest. Not the kind you feel in your bones, but the one that sits in your spirit. I sat up slowly, every muscle feeling too aware, every breath reminding me that sleep hadn’t fixed anything.
Zade wasn’t beside me anymore.
The bed was still warm, like he’d only just left. But it felt emptier now—his absence thick in the air like it knew I’d wake up needing him.
Then came the soft knock.
The door creaked open, and Leo stepped in with a quiet smile. “Hey. How are we doing? Zade asked me to watch you while he’s out.”
I blinked. “Out?”
Leo nodded. “Urgent work stuff. He didn’t want to wake you. He said he’d try to be back before lunch.”
Of course.
I gave a small nod and murmured, “Thanks for checking on me.”
Leo moved further in. “How do you feel?”
I opened my mouth, then shut it.
How did I feel?
Like I was walking barefoot on glass. Like my blood had turned to saltwater. Like I’d been gutted by someone who once held my hand.
“I don’t know,” I whispered finally.
Leo’s smile faded gently, his gaze understanding. “That’s fine. It’d be weird if you did.”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t have to.
“I’ll go get you something to eat,” he added, already heading toward the door. “Don’t say no. You need something, even if it’s just toast.”
I gave a half-hearted shrug. “Fine. But no eggs.”
He laughed lightly. “Toast it is.”
When he left, silence returned. I welcomed it. I feared it.
David.
I still couldn’t believe it.
His voice haunted me more than his actions. That deep-rooted hatred that lived in his words—like I’d done something unforgivable just by existing. Just by surviving. Just by trying to be happy.
And then Zade.
Why was he doing all this?
Why was he holding me like he meant it?
Why did he keep showing up even when I pushed him away?
I stared at the rumpled sheets where he’d slept, where I’d cried, where I fell asleep in his arms—and the ache in my chest bloomed again.
Maybe… he liked me.
Maybe that’s what this was.
Because people don’t do all this for someone they don’t care about. Not this much, not this gently. Not this fiercely.
But if he did… why didn’t he just say so?
Then again—would I? Would I be able to admit it if I were him?
I’m just the girl with a shattered past. A family I'm trying to hold together with trembling hands. A girl who signed a contract to survive. A girl he found desperate and messy and... wrong.
What if he doesn’t want to carry someone like me? What if he only wants to fix me?
What if he leaves once I’m whole?
The thoughts came fast, cruel, poisonous.
Then, Leo returned, carrying a tray with two plates and orange juice. “Told you I’d make it edible. Don’t look so scared.”
I smiled faintly, brushing the tears that had slipped unknowingly down my cheek.
“Thanks,” I whispered.
He didn’t mention the tears. He didn’t ask any questions. He just sat beside me and handed me a plate. We ate together and talked about random stuff, especially what it's like on set.
I liked his company, at least I wasn't distracted by my hurtful feelings.
He left me around 6pm.
It was 11 p.m. and Zade still hadn’t returned.
I’d told myself not to wait.
Told myself not to check my phone again.
Not to glance at the door like it might swing open.
But I did.
Over and over.
Until my body gave out before my heart did. I drifted into a restless sleep, curled beneath the sheets that still faintly smelled like him.
Then, sometime later, a noise startled me awake.
The deep, distant hum of engines. Tires brushing the gravel. Headlights sweeping past the window.
I blinked against the dark, reaching for my phone.
3:02 a.m.
What?
I slipped out of bed and padded to the balcony, heart racing.
It was Zade’s car.
He stepped out of the driver’s seat in his usual composed, unhurried way… but my breath caught when the other door opened.
Anna.
She climbed out with his bag in hand—like she belonged there.
They didn’t speak as they approached the front door. Just walked side by side, her heels clicking softly against the pavement, her hand gripping his belongings like a loyal shadow.
I turned away before they reached the door.
Slipped back into bed, lay still, eyes shut, forcing my face into the calm slack of sleep.
A few minutes passed.
Then I heard the door creak open, slow and deliberate.
Soft footsteps padded across the floor.
I didn’t move.
The bathroom light flicked on briefly. Then off.
Then—closer.
A presence.
A warmth.
His cologne hit me first—dark, expensive, intoxicating. My lashes fluttered, but I forced them still. My heart thudded so loudly I feared it might betray me.
I could feel him hovering above me now, his breath brushing my skin.
Then—
A finger traced the curve of my lips.
My entire body tensed.
He shouldn’t be touching me.
I shouldn’t want him to.
His hand slipped into my hair, brushing it gently to the side.
My breath hitched.
Then, so softly I almost doubted it, he whispered.
“You’re so pretty. Even when you sleep.”
He pressed a kiss to my forehead, warm and lingering. My eyes burned behind closed lids.
Then he moved away. The bed dipped slightly as he climbed in behind me, his back settling close to mine. Not touching, but close enough for me to feel his warmth.
I lay there, still pretending to be asleep, still reeling from everything.
He kissed me like I mattered.
And now… I didn’t know what to believe.
But the beat of my heart… didn’t lie.
I woke up to the soft sounds of Zade’s movement in the room—buttons being fastened, the shift of his belt, the bathroom door creaking slightly as he stepped out, fully dressed.
He was about to leave again.
I sat up slowly, the heaviness still in my chest.
“You didn’t come home early yesterday,” I said, my voice quiet but slicing.
He turned, his brows pinched slightly like he hadn’t expected me to speak first. “I know. I'm sorry. I got caught up in something urgent.”
“You didn’t call,” I added, standing to face him. “You didn’t text. Nothing.”
He sighed. “I was busy. I didn’t want to—”
“Then you shouldn’t have made it feel like you were always going to be there.”
His eyes darted to mine, stunned by the honesty.
That’s when I realised that he knew this wasn’t about just last night. There was a weight behind my voice he couldn’t ignore.
He took a step closer. “Olive, it’s not like that—”
But it was too late. My memory hit like a slap.
Anna. Walking out of his study, with that folder. The pictures.
I crossed my arms tightly. “Where did those pictures come from?”
He froze.
“Don’t lie,” I said quickly, bitter heat rising in my chest. “I know you are, or were in charge of them. Anna had pictures of me—of my life—before we even talked. Why?”
His jaw tightened. “I don’t want to talk about this now.”
“Of course you don’t.”
I took a step back like his silence was venom.
“Every time I ask for truth, I get riddles. You promised to protect me, to be there for me, to listen. But every time I get close to clarity, you shut down.”
“Olive, please—”
“Don’t,” I snapped. “Don’t say my name like that when you’re standing in front of me with half-truths and convenient timing.”
He looked like he wanted to reach for me, but he didn’t.
So I turned and walked straight out of the room.
I went to my previous room, slammed the door and locked it. My chest heaved, but the tears wouldn’t come.
I was tired.
Tired of being left in the dark. Of trusting people who twisted everything. Tired of crying.
First Amanda, my brother, now Zade.
How was I supposed to believe I was safe with a man who might have been watching me before we ever spoke?
What if I was just a part of something?
Some agenda?
I dropped onto the edge of the bed and stared at my phone for a long while.
There was only one person twisted enough not to sugarcoat anything.
Anna.
She’d burn my life down for fun—but she wouldn’t hide the truth. Not when it gave her power to ruin me.
I opened my messages, found her contact and typed.
"I want to talk. Just you and me. I need the truth."
A minute passed. Then the reply came.
"I'll send you a location. I'm busy so I won't waste time."
I wore a large gray hoodie—oversized enough to swallow my shoulders—and paired it with black jeans and scuffed sneakers. My curls were pulled into a low, messy bun and stuffed under a navy baseball cap, the brim shadowing my face. I even wore fake glasses, the oversized kind that fogged up when I breathed too hard.
No perfume. No jewelry. No attention.
I ordered a taxi and showed the driver the location.
The location led me to a quiet library not too far from the Avners estate. I slid into a quiet corner of the library’s forgotten reading room—dimly lit, lined with crooked old shelves, and haunted by the scent of dust and ink. The kind of place no one looked twice at.
Then the door creaked.
Anna.
She entered like she owned the oxygen in the room, her long wine-colored coat flowing behind her. Her hair was slicked back to perfection, and she wore that crooked, smug smile like it was part of her makeup routine.
“Well, well,” she said, tilting her head as she strutted toward me. “The queen summons the jester.”
I stayed seated, eyes level. “Thanks for coming.”
She sat across from me, legs crossed, hands relaxed like she was at brunch. “So? What does Her Highness want?”
“I want to know why you had pictures of me,” I said firmly. “Where did they come from?”
Her grin widened, slow and sharp.
“Oh,” she sighed, “this is rich.”
I said nothing.
She leaned forward. “You really are slow, aren’t you? I’ve been waiting for this day. The day you'd finally wake up.”
I stiffened. “Just answer the question.”
Her eyes danced with pleasure. “You really think Zade just happened to find you the day your mother was dying? That he married you out of pity? That he swooped in like some emotionally constipated billionaire savior?”
I swallowed.
She chuckled and tapped her nails against the table. “Zade’s been watching you since his first year at college. I don't know if you can remember any black cars around you sometimes when you were walking home from your part-time job or after lectures were over? Guess who was inside.”
I blinked. “No—”
“Oh, but yes.” Her voice was thick with glee. “I used to drive him after his night classes too. He’d tell me where to go. We’d follow you all the way to that tiny building in Queens, till he sees you getting in safely.”
She leaned in, whispering like a villain in a fairytale. “He knew you, Olive. Long before you knew him.” She paused and continued, “he stalked you.”
“No.” My voice broke. “You’re lying.”
Anna laughed—a low, husky sound. “Of course you’d say that. You’re a dummy. A desperate, soft little thing who thinks love is clean and honest.”
My heart pounded in my chest.
She smirked. “Zade isn’t who you think he is. He plays the long game. And you? You were his favorite puzzle.”
My skin went cold.
“How do I know you’re not just twisting everything?” I asked, standing now. “Why would you even tell me all this?”
She stood too, her heels clicking once on the wooden floor.
“Because I don’t need to lie to you. You're already broken.” She took a step closer. “But don’t ever think you’re all that. You’re not special, Olive. You’re just the girl he decided to keep.”
She turned and walked away, pausing at the door.
“You wanted the truth? Now sit with it.”
Then she left.
And I was alone.
Alone with the crackling sound of silence and a thousand knives digging into my chest.
I barely remembered the drive back.
Anna’s words echoed inside me like a curse, wrapping around my ribs, suffocating everything I thought I knew. My fingers trembled on my sides as I walked towards the front door. My knees almost buckled on the stairs.
I was back in Zade’s home–our home, apparently–but I didn’t feel safe. Not in the way I used to.
Everything felt fake now. The tenderness. The forehead kisses. The way he held me like I was fragile glass.
What if it had all been a lie?
I was halfway up the stairs when I heard the front door open and close. Heavy footsteps. Slow and certain.
“Where did you go?” Zade’s voice rang out behind me. Calm, but sharp.
I paused. He must have noticed my cover.
Zade wasn’t beside me anymore.
The bed was still warm, like he’d only just left. But it felt emptier now—his absence thick in the air like it knew I’d wake up needing him.
Then came the soft knock.
The door creaked open, and Leo stepped in with a quiet smile. “Hey. How are we doing? Zade asked me to watch you while he’s out.”
I blinked. “Out?”
Leo nodded. “Urgent work stuff. He didn’t want to wake you. He said he’d try to be back before lunch.”
Of course.
I gave a small nod and murmured, “Thanks for checking on me.”
Leo moved further in. “How do you feel?”
I opened my mouth, then shut it.
How did I feel?
Like I was walking barefoot on glass. Like my blood had turned to saltwater. Like I’d been gutted by someone who once held my hand.
“I don’t know,” I whispered finally.
Leo’s smile faded gently, his gaze understanding. “That’s fine. It’d be weird if you did.”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t have to.
“I’ll go get you something to eat,” he added, already heading toward the door. “Don’t say no. You need something, even if it’s just toast.”
I gave a half-hearted shrug. “Fine. But no eggs.”
He laughed lightly. “Toast it is.”
When he left, silence returned. I welcomed it. I feared it.
David.
I still couldn’t believe it.
His voice haunted me more than his actions. That deep-rooted hatred that lived in his words—like I’d done something unforgivable just by existing. Just by surviving. Just by trying to be happy.
And then Zade.
Why was he doing all this?
Why was he holding me like he meant it?
Why did he keep showing up even when I pushed him away?
I stared at the rumpled sheets where he’d slept, where I’d cried, where I fell asleep in his arms—and the ache in my chest bloomed again.
Maybe… he liked me.
Maybe that’s what this was.
Because people don’t do all this for someone they don’t care about. Not this much, not this gently. Not this fiercely.
But if he did… why didn’t he just say so?
Then again—would I? Would I be able to admit it if I were him?
I’m just the girl with a shattered past. A family I'm trying to hold together with trembling hands. A girl who signed a contract to survive. A girl he found desperate and messy and... wrong.
What if he doesn’t want to carry someone like me? What if he only wants to fix me?
What if he leaves once I’m whole?
The thoughts came fast, cruel, poisonous.
Then, Leo returned, carrying a tray with two plates and orange juice. “Told you I’d make it edible. Don’t look so scared.”
I smiled faintly, brushing the tears that had slipped unknowingly down my cheek.
“Thanks,” I whispered.
He didn’t mention the tears. He didn’t ask any questions. He just sat beside me and handed me a plate. We ate together and talked about random stuff, especially what it's like on set.
I liked his company, at least I wasn't distracted by my hurtful feelings.
He left me around 6pm.
It was 11 p.m. and Zade still hadn’t returned.
I’d told myself not to wait.
Told myself not to check my phone again.
Not to glance at the door like it might swing open.
But I did.
Over and over.
Until my body gave out before my heart did. I drifted into a restless sleep, curled beneath the sheets that still faintly smelled like him.
Then, sometime later, a noise startled me awake.
The deep, distant hum of engines. Tires brushing the gravel. Headlights sweeping past the window.
I blinked against the dark, reaching for my phone.
3:02 a.m.
What?
I slipped out of bed and padded to the balcony, heart racing.
It was Zade’s car.
He stepped out of the driver’s seat in his usual composed, unhurried way… but my breath caught when the other door opened.
Anna.
She climbed out with his bag in hand—like she belonged there.
They didn’t speak as they approached the front door. Just walked side by side, her heels clicking softly against the pavement, her hand gripping his belongings like a loyal shadow.
I turned away before they reached the door.
Slipped back into bed, lay still, eyes shut, forcing my face into the calm slack of sleep.
A few minutes passed.
Then I heard the door creak open, slow and deliberate.
Soft footsteps padded across the floor.
I didn’t move.
The bathroom light flicked on briefly. Then off.
Then—closer.
A presence.
A warmth.
His cologne hit me first—dark, expensive, intoxicating. My lashes fluttered, but I forced them still. My heart thudded so loudly I feared it might betray me.
I could feel him hovering above me now, his breath brushing my skin.
Then—
A finger traced the curve of my lips.
My entire body tensed.
He shouldn’t be touching me.
I shouldn’t want him to.
His hand slipped into my hair, brushing it gently to the side.
My breath hitched.
Then, so softly I almost doubted it, he whispered.
“You’re so pretty. Even when you sleep.”
He pressed a kiss to my forehead, warm and lingering. My eyes burned behind closed lids.
Then he moved away. The bed dipped slightly as he climbed in behind me, his back settling close to mine. Not touching, but close enough for me to feel his warmth.
I lay there, still pretending to be asleep, still reeling from everything.
He kissed me like I mattered.
And now… I didn’t know what to believe.
But the beat of my heart… didn’t lie.
I woke up to the soft sounds of Zade’s movement in the room—buttons being fastened, the shift of his belt, the bathroom door creaking slightly as he stepped out, fully dressed.
He was about to leave again.
I sat up slowly, the heaviness still in my chest.
“You didn’t come home early yesterday,” I said, my voice quiet but slicing.
He turned, his brows pinched slightly like he hadn’t expected me to speak first. “I know. I'm sorry. I got caught up in something urgent.”
“You didn’t call,” I added, standing to face him. “You didn’t text. Nothing.”
He sighed. “I was busy. I didn’t want to—”
“Then you shouldn’t have made it feel like you were always going to be there.”
His eyes darted to mine, stunned by the honesty.
That’s when I realised that he knew this wasn’t about just last night. There was a weight behind my voice he couldn’t ignore.
He took a step closer. “Olive, it’s not like that—”
But it was too late. My memory hit like a slap.
Anna. Walking out of his study, with that folder. The pictures.
I crossed my arms tightly. “Where did those pictures come from?”
He froze.
“Don’t lie,” I said quickly, bitter heat rising in my chest. “I know you are, or were in charge of them. Anna had pictures of me—of my life—before we even talked. Why?”
His jaw tightened. “I don’t want to talk about this now.”
“Of course you don’t.”
I took a step back like his silence was venom.
“Every time I ask for truth, I get riddles. You promised to protect me, to be there for me, to listen. But every time I get close to clarity, you shut down.”
“Olive, please—”
“Don’t,” I snapped. “Don’t say my name like that when you’re standing in front of me with half-truths and convenient timing.”
He looked like he wanted to reach for me, but he didn’t.
So I turned and walked straight out of the room.
I went to my previous room, slammed the door and locked it. My chest heaved, but the tears wouldn’t come.
I was tired.
Tired of being left in the dark. Of trusting people who twisted everything. Tired of crying.
First Amanda, my brother, now Zade.
How was I supposed to believe I was safe with a man who might have been watching me before we ever spoke?
What if I was just a part of something?
Some agenda?
I dropped onto the edge of the bed and stared at my phone for a long while.
There was only one person twisted enough not to sugarcoat anything.
Anna.
She’d burn my life down for fun—but she wouldn’t hide the truth. Not when it gave her power to ruin me.
I opened my messages, found her contact and typed.
"I want to talk. Just you and me. I need the truth."
A minute passed. Then the reply came.
"I'll send you a location. I'm busy so I won't waste time."
I wore a large gray hoodie—oversized enough to swallow my shoulders—and paired it with black jeans and scuffed sneakers. My curls were pulled into a low, messy bun and stuffed under a navy baseball cap, the brim shadowing my face. I even wore fake glasses, the oversized kind that fogged up when I breathed too hard.
No perfume. No jewelry. No attention.
I ordered a taxi and showed the driver the location.
The location led me to a quiet library not too far from the Avners estate. I slid into a quiet corner of the library’s forgotten reading room—dimly lit, lined with crooked old shelves, and haunted by the scent of dust and ink. The kind of place no one looked twice at.
Then the door creaked.
Anna.
She entered like she owned the oxygen in the room, her long wine-colored coat flowing behind her. Her hair was slicked back to perfection, and she wore that crooked, smug smile like it was part of her makeup routine.
“Well, well,” she said, tilting her head as she strutted toward me. “The queen summons the jester.”
I stayed seated, eyes level. “Thanks for coming.”
She sat across from me, legs crossed, hands relaxed like she was at brunch. “So? What does Her Highness want?”
“I want to know why you had pictures of me,” I said firmly. “Where did they come from?”
Her grin widened, slow and sharp.
“Oh,” she sighed, “this is rich.”
I said nothing.
She leaned forward. “You really are slow, aren’t you? I’ve been waiting for this day. The day you'd finally wake up.”
I stiffened. “Just answer the question.”
Her eyes danced with pleasure. “You really think Zade just happened to find you the day your mother was dying? That he married you out of pity? That he swooped in like some emotionally constipated billionaire savior?”
I swallowed.
She chuckled and tapped her nails against the table. “Zade’s been watching you since his first year at college. I don't know if you can remember any black cars around you sometimes when you were walking home from your part-time job or after lectures were over? Guess who was inside.”
I blinked. “No—”
“Oh, but yes.” Her voice was thick with glee. “I used to drive him after his night classes too. He’d tell me where to go. We’d follow you all the way to that tiny building in Queens, till he sees you getting in safely.”
She leaned in, whispering like a villain in a fairytale. “He knew you, Olive. Long before you knew him.” She paused and continued, “he stalked you.”
“No.” My voice broke. “You’re lying.”
Anna laughed—a low, husky sound. “Of course you’d say that. You’re a dummy. A desperate, soft little thing who thinks love is clean and honest.”
My heart pounded in my chest.
She smirked. “Zade isn’t who you think he is. He plays the long game. And you? You were his favorite puzzle.”
My skin went cold.
“How do I know you’re not just twisting everything?” I asked, standing now. “Why would you even tell me all this?”
She stood too, her heels clicking once on the wooden floor.
“Because I don’t need to lie to you. You're already broken.” She took a step closer. “But don’t ever think you’re all that. You’re not special, Olive. You’re just the girl he decided to keep.”
She turned and walked away, pausing at the door.
“You wanted the truth? Now sit with it.”
Then she left.
And I was alone.
Alone with the crackling sound of silence and a thousand knives digging into my chest.
I barely remembered the drive back.
Anna’s words echoed inside me like a curse, wrapping around my ribs, suffocating everything I thought I knew. My fingers trembled on my sides as I walked towards the front door. My knees almost buckled on the stairs.
I was back in Zade’s home–our home, apparently–but I didn’t feel safe. Not in the way I used to.
Everything felt fake now. The tenderness. The forehead kisses. The way he held me like I was fragile glass.
What if it had all been a lie?
I was halfway up the stairs when I heard the front door open and close. Heavy footsteps. Slow and certain.
“Where did you go?” Zade’s voice rang out behind me. Calm, but sharp.
I paused. He must have noticed my cover.
End of His for a year. Chapter 47. Continue reading Chapter 48 or return to His for a year. book page.