Chapter 6 6

The grand foyer of the Hamptons estate smelled of lilies and beeswax. It was a scent of preservation, of things kept stagnant and perfect. A butler took their coats without a word, his face a mask of professional indifference.

"She's in the master suite," the butler murmured.

Chadwick placed a hand on the small of Johnna's back to guide her. The heat of his palm seared through her blouse. She flinched, stepping away from his touch. He dropped his hand, his expression hardening.

They walked up the sweeping staircase in silence.

Grandmother Dyer lay in the center of a massive four-poster bed. She looked tiny, swallowed by the heavy brocade comforters. Her skin was like parchment, translucent and fragile.

"Johnna," the old woman rasped.

Johnna rushed to the bedside, dropping to her knees. She took the old woman's hand. It was cold and dry.

"I'm here, Grandmother," she said softly.

Grandmother Dyer opened her eyes. They were milky with age, but beneath the haze, there was a spark. A sharp, assessing intelligence that Johnna had always admired.

"You left," Grandmother accused, her voice weak but stern. "You left my grandson."

"I..." Johnna stammered. She looked at Chadwick. He was standing at the foot of the bed, looking at the floor.

"We had a disagreement," Chadwick said. "It's resolved."

Grandmother coughed. It was a wet, rattling sound that went on too long. A doctor, standing in the shadows of the room, stepped forward to check her pulse.

"She needs rest," the doctor said, looking at Chadwick. "No stress. Her heart is operating at thirty percent capacity."

Grandmother gripped Johnna's hand with surprising strength. "Don't leave. Stay. Until I'm... better."

"I have to work, Grandmother," Johnna said gently.

"Work?" Grandmother scoffed, then wheezed. "Nonsense. Stay here. I want to see you. I want to see..." She looked at Johnna's stomach. "I want to see the future."

Johnna froze. The pressure for an heir. It had always been the subtext, now it was the text.

"We will stay," Chadwick said abruptly. "For the weekend. Until you're stable."

Johnna shot him a glare. He ignored her.

"Good," Grandmother sighed, closing her eyes. A small smile played on her lips. "Good."

Dinner was a silent affair in the dining room that could seat thirty. Grandfather Dyer sat at the head of the table, cutting his steak with surgical precision.

"The trust stipulates marital cohabitation for full disbursement of the quarterly allowance," Grandfather said, not looking up. "I'm glad you two came to your senses. Divorce is expensive. And vulgar."

Johnna pushed a pea around her plate. They weren't people to him. They were assets.

Later, the butler led them to their room.

"I prepared the East Suite," the butler said.

"We need separate rooms," Johnna said quickly.

The butler cleared his throat, his eyes darting toward Grandmother's door. "Madam was quite insistent, sir. She demanded the East Suite for you both because it shares a connecting door with her room. She wants to be able to... call out if she needs you. She specifically forbade us from preparing any other guest rooms."

Chadwick sighed, loosening his tie. "Fine. It's just for a few nights."

He walked into the room. It was the room they had used on their honeymoon. The bed was enormous.

Johnna stood by the door, hugging her arms. "I'm not sleeping with you."

"I'll take the sofa," Chadwick said, grabbing a pillow from the bed. He tossed it onto the chaise lounge by the window. "I'm not an animal, Johnna."

He took off his jacket and shirt, revealing the broad expanse of his back. Johnna looked away, her mouth dry.

She changed in the bathroom and climbed into the massive bed, staying on the far edge.

The lights went out.

The room was quiet, save for the ticking of a grandfather clock in the hall. Johnna lay awake, staring into the dark. She could hear Chadwick shifting on the too-small sofa. She could hear his breathing-slow, rhythmic.

She felt trapped. The luxury was suffocating. She was a prisoner in a castle, guarded by a dying queen and a husband who wanted to replace her.

"Johnna?" Chadwick's voice came from the dark.

"Go to sleep, Chadwick."

"I didn't want it to be like this," he whispered.

"Like what?"

"Like a war."

Johnna closed her eyes tight. "You started it when you printed those papers."

He didn't answer. The silence stretched, heavy and unresolved, until sleep finally dragged her under.