Chapter 2

The whispers intensified, a rising tide of sympathy and veiled judgment. I could feel the eyes of every guest, a thousand tiny needles pricking at my composure. Chloe' s triumphant smirk was a physical weight, pressing down on me. But this wasn't the past. I wouldn't re-live that humiliation. Not again.

In my previous life, I would have fled, tears streaming, letting the gossip consume me. I would have let Arjun' s absence define my entire night, my entire future. That impulsive, emotional response had led to a spiral of vulnerability, making me an easy target for Curtis' s machinations and Chloe' s relentless envy. My family, steeped in tradition and image, had viewed my public despair as a weakness, a scandal. They expected strength, dignity, a calm facade in the face of adversity. And I had failed them.

This time, I would play the part they expected. I would exceed it.

I took a deep breath, the gardenia scent still cloying, but now I found a strange resolve in it. I walked purposefully towards the makeshift stage, a small microphone stand waiting patiently. The whispers quieted, replaced by an expectant hush.

I adjusted the microphone, letting the slight feedback hum settle before I spoke. My voice, when it came, was clear and steady, devoid of any tremor. "Thank you all for coming to celebrate this joyous occasion." I scanned the room, meeting the gaze of various family elders, my father among them. His eyes held a mixture of anxiety and faint hope.

"As you know," I continued, "my husband, Arjun, is a man of immense responsibility. Wolf Industries, and now the Becker conglomerate, rely on his tireless dedication. Tonight, a matter of critical global importance demanded his immediate attention." I paused, letting the words hang in the air, allowing their weight to convey the gravity of the situation without revealing specifics. "While I regret his physical absence, I understand and respect his commitment to his duties. Indeed, it is that very commitment that makes him the exceptional leader he is."

A few nods rippled through the older, more business-savvy guests.

"However," I added, a slight, confident smile gracing my lips, "a wedding is a celebration of partnership. And I am here, as his partner, to ensure that the spirit of this union is honored. Starting tomorrow, I will be stepping into my new role, working closely with the Becker team to integrate our families' visions. I will ensure that this merger, this beautiful new beginning, flourishes with the same dedication and drive that Arjun embodies."

The last word hung in the air. The murmuring had ceased entirely. A profound silence fell over the ballroom, broken only by the clink of glasses as some guests, emboldened by my speech, quietly took a sip.

Then, from the front row, Essie Becker, the formidable matriarch, gave a slow, approving nod. Her gaze, usually so sharp, softened almost imperceptibly as she met mine. A flicker of respect, a recognition of my composure. My father, beside her, let out a silent breath of relief, a small, grateful smile touching his lips.

Our family, the Wolfs, placed an almost obsessive value on public image, on maintaining a veneer of strength and unity. Any sign of weakness was an invitation for predators, both within and without. My calm handling of Arjun's absence, my immediate pivot to asserting my role, had not just salvaged the situation; it had elevated me in their eyes.

Across the room, I saw Chloe. Her jaw was tight, her eyes, usually so expressive, now narrowed to venomous slits. The triumphant glow had vanished, replaced by a dark, simmering fury. How dare she? She's supposed to be humiliated! This was my moment! Her thoughts screeched in my mind, a discordant symphony of rage.

I had effectively turned her moment of schadenfreude into a platform for my own empowerment. She would not forgive that. Just wait until the toasts. I' ll make sure she trips over her own tongue.

A small, thrilling jolt went through me. This ability, this unwelcome intrusion into others' minds, was proving to be an invaluable weapon. It was a shield, and a sword, in this treacherous new game.

The time for toasts arrived. A long line of relatives and business associates waited their turn to offer blessings and well wishes. This was Chloe' s chance, I knew, to further undermine me, to perhaps highlight Arjun' s absence with a seemingly innocent comment.

As the maître d' announced the next speaker, Chloe, I felt a familiar tension in the air. My cousin, radiant in her white gown, now with a slightly too bright smile, approached the stage. Here it comes, I thought, a sense of grim anticipation settling in.

She took the microphone, her eyes darting towards me, a mischievous glint within. Just a little nudge, Ellie. Just a little push to remind everyone where you stand.

I watched her, my senses heightened. My eyes tracked her movements, her subtle shifts in weight. She was holding a champagne glass, a little too full. Her heel, a slender stiletto, was just a fraction too close to the edge of the stage. My mind worked quickly, calculating trajectory, balance, the precise moment of impact.

Three... two... one.

As Chloe opened her mouth to speak, I subtly, almost imperceptibly, shifted my weight. The floorboard beneath my foot, a loose one I had noticed earlier, groaned. A tiny vibration, barely audible, traveled across the stage. Her heel, already precarious, lost its purchase.

With a startled yelp, Chloe stumbled. Her arms flailed, the champagne glass flew from her hand, arcing through the air in a glittering spray. Time seemed to slow. The glass shattered on the polished marble floor. Chloe, caught off balance, pitched forward, landing awkwardly on her knees. A dark stain bloomed across the pristine white satin of her dress, the spilled champagne mixing with a vibrant red wine from a passing waiter' s tray.

A collective gasp swept through the ballroom. My cousin lay sprawled, her elegant gown soaked and ruined, a crimson map spreading across her lap. Her meticulously styled hair had come loose, falling across her face in disarray. She blinked, dazed for a moment, before her eyes, wide with shock and mortification, landed on me.

Curtis, ever the attentive partner, rushed forward, his charming facade momentarily cracked by surprise. He reached for Chloe, his hand offering support. Foolish woman. Always so dramatic. Now she' s ruined the whole evening. His thoughts were a sharp contrast to his outwardly concerned expression.

All eyes, which had been fixed on me moments before, now swiveled to Chloe. The whispers returned, but this time, they were laced with an unmistakable undercurrent of amusement and disdain.

Essie Becker, who had been watching the scene unfold with an impassive expression, finally spoke. Her voice, though soft, carried an undeniable authority that cut through the agitated murmuring. "Chloe, dear. That was quite the entrance. Perhaps a little less... theatricality next time." Her words were polite, but her tone was edged with disapproval. "A Wolf woman, particularly on her wedding day, should exhibit grace and self-control. Not... that." She gestured vaguely at the crimson-stained gown.

Chloe, her face scarlet, stammered, "Oh, Aunt Essie, I'm so terribly sorry! I... I don't know what happened. I must have... tripped." She shot a quick, furious glance at me, but I maintained an expression of serene concern. "It won't happen again."

You bitch, Ellie! You did this! I know you did! Her silent scream was deafening in my mind.

I merely offered her a sympathetic nod. You brought this on yourself, Chloe. You chose the path of malice. And now you walk it alone. My empathy was a shallow, fleeting thing. This was a consequence of her own toxic nature, her unrelenting desire to undermine and destroy. I had simply given her a gentle nudge in the direction she was already headed.

The incident effectively cut short the formal reception. The bride, drenched in wine, was whisked away to change, her dignity in tatters. The festive mood had been irrevocably shattered.

Later, as the last guests departed, Essie Becker pulled me aside. Her gaze, though still discerning, held a newfound warmth. "Ellie," she said, her voice low, "you handled yourself admirably tonight. Poise, quick thinking, and impeccable composure. You are truly a Wolf woman. And a Becker, now."

She gave my hand a firm squeeze. "Arjun will be pleased to hear of your performance. He values strength and intelligence above all else. And speaking of Arjun," she added, a glint in her eye, "I've already spoken to him. He's on his way home from his meeting. He should be back tonight."

A small, surprised gasp escaped me. Essie Becker had pulled strings. She had brought him home. My heart gave an unexpected lurch. This was a significant gesture, a clear sign of her favor.

He's coming home. Tonight.

Hours later, the grand house was silent, save for the hum of the air conditioning. I sat on the edge of the plush sofa, the wedding dress now carefully packed away, replaced by a simple silk robe. The clock on the mantelpiece chimed midnight.

The front door opened then, a soft click that resonated in the quiet. Footsteps. Heavy, deliberate. Arjun.

He walked into the living room, his suit jacket slung over one arm, his tie already loosened. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, his eyes shadowed with fatigue. He ran a hand through his hair, then began to unbutton his cuff, his movements precise and economical. His gaze, distant and tired, swept across the room, registering my presence, then moved on.

"Arjun," I said softly, standing. "Welcome home."

He didn't stop, didn't even acknowledge me directly. His journey continued towards the study, as if I were a ghost. He was an exhausted emperor returning to his solitary castle.

In my previous life, he hadn't come home that night. He had stayed away for days, immersed in his work, leaving me to face the aftermath alone. Chloe, of course, had made sure the entire family knew of his continued absence, twisting it into further proof of my abandonment. The memory was a bitter pang. This was different. He was here.

I watched him go, a strange mix of relief and... something else. Disappointment? No, that wasn't right. I hadn' t expected warmth, only professionalism. But still, the cold indifference was a stark reminder of the contract we had entered, not a marriage of hearts.

I moved then, into the bedroom, our bedroom. It was vast, impersonal, decorated in muted tones. I stripped the pristine white duvet cover from the king-sized bed, replacing it with a fresh, crisp set. I fluffed the pillows, drew the heavy curtains against the pre-dawn light. I laid out a fresh towel on the en-suite bathroom counter, next to a newly opened bar of expensive soap. All the small, domestic details of a wife preparing for her husband, things I' d never done for him before.

Then, I turned my attention to the sofa by the window. I found extra blankets and a pillow, arranging them neatly. This was my bed. Our agreement was clear. A marriage of convenience, in name only. I would not overstep.

It wasn't long before I heard the shower running. The rhythmic spray was a comforting sound in the silent house. When the water finally stopped, I heard the soft click of the bathroom door.

Arjun emerged, a towel wrapped low around his waist, his muscular torso gleaming with moisture. His hair was damp, falling across his forehead. He paused, his gaze sweeping the now-prepared room, then landing on the neatly arranged sofa. A flicker of something, surprise perhaps, or curiosity, crossed his features, quickly masked.

He walked past me, still without a word, towards the closet. He pulled out a fresh robe, slipping it on. My gaze, despite myself, lingered on the breadth of his shoulders, the defined lines of his back. He was a man chiseled from stone, all power and controlled strength.

"I... I prepared the room for you," I said, my voice feeling small in the vast space. "And... the sofa is for me, of course."

He turned then, his dark eyes finally meeting mine, a hint of something unreadable in their depths. "You don't have to sleep on the sofa, Ellie. This is your room too." His voice was deep, a low rumble that sent a strange shiver down my spine.

"No," I replied, perhaps a little too quickly. I needed to maintain the boundaries, to reiterate the nature of our arrangement. "The agreement was clear. A business partnership. We maintain appearances, but... this is your space. I'm merely a guest."

He watched me for a long moment, his gaze intense, as if trying to dissect my words, to find the hidden meaning beneath them. "A guest," he repeated, his voice devoid of emotion. "Is that truly how you see this, Ellie? Us?"

I met his gaze, forcing myself to hold steady. "It's how we defined it, Arjun. A mutually beneficial arrangement. You get a presentable wife, a stable image for the merger. I get... security for my family. And a chance to rebuild."

A muscle in his jaw twitched. He walked towards the large armchair, sinking into it. His eyes, though weary, were sharp. "So, this is a transaction for you, then. Nothing more."

I didn't flinch. I had to be strong, pragmatic. "It always was, wasn't it? For both of us." My gaze drifted to his bare chest, still damp, the taut planes of his abdomen. I quickly looked away, warmth rising to my cheeks. He was a powerful man, undeniably attractive, but I couldn't afford to blur the lines. Not now. Not ever again.

"Then let's be clear about the terms of this transaction, Mrs. Becker." His voice was low, almost a growl. "You uphold your end: public image, family duties, presenting a united front. And I will uphold mine: protecting your family's interests, ensuring the merger's success, and providing you with... whatever else you deem necessary for your 'security' and 'rebuilding.'" He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But know this, Ellie. I expect competence. Loyalty. And no surprises."

"Understood," I said, my voice firm. "And I expect the same. Respect. Autonomy. And the resources to prove my worth."

He leaned back, a faint, almost imperceptible curve to his lips. "Fair enough. You impressed my aunt tonight. That was a good start." His gaze lingered on me, a rare spark of something akin to approval in his dark eyes. "You're smarter than you let on, Ellie Wolf. I look forward to seeing what you can do."

I felt a surge of professional pride, even as I ignored the unsettling way his words, his gaze, made my skin tingle. This was a new game, with new rules. And I was determined to win. Not for him, not for love, but for myself. My absolute priority was to secure my financial independence, to build an unshakeable foundation for myself. This marriage was merely a stepping stone, a strategic alliance. I would leverage his power, his resources, then, when the time was right, I would walk away, a woman completely free. Starting tomorrow, my only focus was on making enough money to completely detach myself from this arrangement.