Chapter 4 The Balcony Where She Died

Adrian POV

The car was silent except for the sound of London traffic bleeding through the windows. Elena sat as far from me as the seat would allow, pressed against the door like she wanted to melt through it and disappear into the street. Her hands were shaking. I could see them trembling in her lap even though she was trying to hide it.

I should say something. Explain. But what explanation made any of this better?

"Did your first wife kill herself?"

It wasn't a question. Her voice was flat. Dead. Like she'd used up all her emotion in the bathroom with Maya and had nothing left.

"Yes

"And you didn't think to mention that when you were making me sign a contract to marry you?"

"I told you I was married before."

"You said it ended. You didn't say she died. Her voice cracked on the last word. "And you didn't say I look exactly like her."

I kept my eyes on the road. Easier than looking at her face. "It's complicated."

"Then uncomplicate it."

The traffic light turned red. I stopped. Turned to face her. She was crying. Silent tears running down her face, and she looked about twelve years old. Nineteen. She was nineteen. What the hell was I doing?

"Her name was Sophia," I said. "We had a contract marriage. Like ours. She needed money for her mother's medical bills. I needed a wife for business reasons. It was supposed to be simple."

"What happened?"

"She fell in love with me."

Elena wiped her face with the back of her hand. "And you didn't love her back."

"No."

"Why not?"

The light turned green. I drove. Focused on the road because it was easier than this conversation. "I don't do love. I don't believe in it. My father taught me that emotions make you weak. Make you vulnerable. Sophia knew the deal when she signed."

"But she fell in love anyway."

"Yes."

"And then what? You just ignored her? Treated her like furniture?"

"I treated her with respect. I gave her everything she needed. Money. Security. Freedom to do whatever she wanted. I just couldn't give her what she wanted most."

"You."

"Yes."

Elena was quiet for a long moment. Then, "How did she die?"

"She jumped. From our balcony. Thirtieth floor." The words came out like a memorized sentence. I'd said them so many times. To police. To my father. To myself at three in the morning when I couldn't sleep. "I came home from work. Found her body on the pavement below."

"Oh God."

"The police ruled it suicide. She left a note. Said she couldn't live in a marriage where she loved someone who would never love her back. Said she was tired of being a ghost in her own life."

"That's awful."

"Yes."

"Did you feel anything? When you found her?"

I glanced at her. "What kind of question is that?"

"A real one. Did you feel anything or did you just tick it off like another business transaction gone wrong?"

"I felt guilty."

"Guilty."

"Yes. Guilty that I couldn't be what she needed. Guilty that I let her sign that contract in the first place. Guilty that I didn't see how bad it had gotten." I turned onto our street. The penthouse tower loomed ahead. "But I didn't love her. I felt terrible that she died, but I didn't love her. Is that what you want to hear? That I'm a monster?"

"I don't know what I want to hear." Her voice was small. "I just want to understand what I've gotten myself into."

"You've gotten yourself into a contract marriage with someone who can't love you back. Same as Sophia. Except you know that going in. She didn't."

"Why did you choose me?"

"You needed money. I needed a wife. The timing worked."

"That's not what I'm asking." She turned to face me fully. "Why me specifically? Out of every desperate person in London, why did you pick the girl who looks exactly like your dead wife?"

I pulled into the underground parking garage. Found my spot. Turned off the engine. Sat there in the sudden silence.

"I don't know."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only answer I have."

My phone buzzed. I pulled it out. Text from Maya.

"She knows. This will be fun to watch."

I deleted it. Elena was watching me. "Who was that?"

"Maya. Being Maya."

"What does that mean?"

"It means she likes to stir things up. Make drama where there doesn't need to be any. She's probably thrilled she got to be the one to tell you about Sophia."

"She said she was there that night. That she saw everything that happened."

"She was there. James brought her over for dinner. Sophia was upset about something. They left early. An hour later, Sophia was dead."

"What was she upset about?"

"I don't remember."

"How can you not remember?"

"Because I wasn't paying attention. I was working. I was always working." I got out of the car. Slammed the door harder than necessary. Elena got out on her side. Followed me to the lift.

We rode up in silence. Thirty floors. Each one felt like a year.

When the doors opened into the penthouse, Elena stopped in the doorway. I'd forgotten she'd never actually been here. She'd been too drunk that I had to put her on our hotel

"It's big," she said.

"Yes."

"And empty."

She was right. The whole place was glass and steel and expensive furniture that nobody ever sat on. A showroom. Not a home.

"Do you want a tour?"

"Not really."

She walked in anyway. Moved through the living room like she was in a museum. Touching nothing. Looking at everything. When she got to the floor-to-ceiling windows, she stopped.

"That's the balcony."

"Yes."

"The one where she died."

"Yes."

Elena pressed her hand against the glass. "I can't do this."

"Can't do what?"

"Live here. Sleep here. Wake up every day and see where she died. I can't."

"You signed a contract."

She spun around. "I was drunk. I didn't know any of this. I didn't know about Sophia. I didn't know about the balcony. I didn't know I look exactly like a dead woman."

"You still signed."

"So void it. Tear it up. Let me go."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I need you. My father is dying. I have two months to prove my marriage is real or I lose everything to James. You leave now, I lose."

"So find someone else."

"There's no time. And I've already introduced you as my wife. To my father. To James. To Maya. Everyone knows now. If you disappear, they'll know it was fake."

"It is fake."

"It has to look real."

Elena laughed. It was a terrible sound. Broken and sharp. "This is insane. This whole situation is insane. You're asking me to live in a dead woman's house, play her role, look at her balcony every single day, all so you can inherit money you don't even need."

"It's not about the money."

"Then what's it about?"

"It's about not letting James win. It's about proving to my father that I can do this. That I can be what he needs me to be."

"What about what I need?"

The question hung in the air between us. I didn't have an answer. Didn't even know what she needed beyond money and a way out of debt. Didn't know if I cared.

No. That was a lie. I did care. I just didn't want to.

"What do you need, Elena?"

"I need to not be here." But she didn't move toward the door. Just stood there, hugging herself, staring at the balcony like it might swallow her whole.

I walked past her. Unlocked the balcony door. Slid it open. Cold air rushed in. February in London was brutal, all wind and wet and gray.

"Come here."

"No."

"Elena. Come here."

She came. Slowly. Like she was walking to her own execution.

I stepped out onto the balcony. The city sprawled below us. Thirty floors of nothing but air and concrete waiting at the bottom.

"This is where Sophia jumped," I said. "Right here. She climbed over this railing and let go."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you'll see this balcony every day. From the living room. From your bedroom. From the kitchen. It's unavoidable. So you need to decide right now if you can handle that."

Elena stood in the doorway. Wouldn't come any closer. "Can you handle it?"

"I don't have a choice."

"Everyone has a choice."

"No. They don't. I chose my path years ago when I signed the first contract with Sophia. When I let my father dictate my life. When I decided business was more important than anything else. Now I'm stuck with the consequences."

"Then why am I here? Why drag me into your consequences?"

"Because I'm selfish. Because I need to win. Because you said yes when I asked."

She stepped out onto the balcony. Just one step. She was shaking. From cold or fear, I couldn't tell. Probably both.

"I hate you," she said.

"I know.

"I hate that I'm trapped."

"Are you?" I looked at her. Really looked at her. Nineteen years old. Parents dead two weeks. Drowning in debt she'd never signed up for. "Or could you walk away? Break the contract? Deal with the financial consequences? It would be hard. Brutal. But possible."

She was quiet.

"You're here because some part of you wants to be," I said. "Maybe it's the money. Maybe it's because you have nowhere else to go. Maybe it's because being here, even in a dead woman's apartment with a man who can't love you, is better than being alone with your grief. I don't know. But you're choosing to stay."

"That's not fair."

"Nothing about this is fair."

Elena walked to the railing. Looked down. I tensed, ready to grab her if she did anything stupid. But she just stood there. Looking at the place where Sophia died.

"Can I handle this?" she asked. Not to me. To herself. To the city. To the ghost that lived in this apartment whether I acknowledged it or not.