Chapter 5

The Toyota pulled up to a slightly rundown, red-brick apartment building in Queens. Blaire tilted her head back, looking at the peeling paint on the exterior walls. She mentally calculated how cheap the rent must be.

Jude grabbed her broken suitcase from the trunk and walked ahead of her. He pushed open the heavy, glass-paneled lobby door. The stale, greasy smell of old pizza and damp carpet assaulted his senses. Jude's jaw clenched tight. He stopped breathing entirely, refusing to let the contaminated air into his lungs.

They rode a creaky, vibrating elevator up to the third floor. Jude pulled a brand-new, shiny key from his pocket. He shoved it into the lock, twisting it twice before the door finally gave way.

Blaire stepped inside and let out a small gasp of surprise. The interior was completely opposite to the hallway. It was spotless. The furniture was basic IKEA, but it was arranged warmly, complete with throw pillows and a rug. Emanuel had executed the illusion perfectly.

"This is way better than I expected," Blaire said, spinning around the living room. "The rent must be pretty high, right?"

Jude loosened his tie, his face completely blank. "It's manageable. I paid the down payment a while ago. I'm just paying off the mortgage every month now."

Blaire's mouth formed an 'O'. It all made sense now. That was why he said he could afford things earlier. He was drowning in mortgage debt. Her chest squeezed with a fresh wave of sympathy.

Jude pointed a long finger toward the hallway. "I take the master bedroom at the end. The guest room is yours. We share the bathroom, but keep your things strictly on your side of the sink."

Blaire didn't care about his extreme territorial rules. She grabbed her suitcase and happily dragged it into the guest room to unpack.

Jude stood alone in the center of the living room. He listened to the sound of her zippers opening. He pulled out his phone. As a husband, even a fake one, he felt a compulsory need to provide living expenses to maintain his character.

He opened his banking app. His thumb hovered over the screen, instinctively preparing to transfer one hundred thousand dollars. He caught himself just in time. He deleted the extra zeros, his brow furrowing at the pathetic amount left on the screen.

Using Zelle, he transferred $1,000 to Blaire's phone number. He typed a single word in the memo: Household.

Inside the guest room, Blaire's phone chimed. She picked it up, her eyes bulging at the notification.

She dropped her clothes and sprinted into the living room, waving her phone at Jude. "Why did you just Zelle me a thousand dollars? You have a mortgage to pay!"

Jude sat down on the cheap sofa, crossing his long legs at the knee. He looked at her with cold indifference. "Since we live together, you will handle buying the groceries and daily necessities. That is for the expenses."

Blaire frowned deeply. She felt like he was puffing up his chest to look like a big man when his wallet was empty. "Groceries do not cost a thousand dollars a month. We agreed to split everything fifty-fifty."

Right in front of his face, she tapped her screen. A second later, Jude's phone buzzed. She had Zelled $900 back to his account.

"I'm keeping one hundred for tonight's groceries," Blaire declared, crossing her arms. "You keep the rest for your mortgage. If I need more, I'll pay for it myself."

Jude stared at the $900 refund notification on his screen. The temperature in the room plummeted. His eyes turned into shards of black ice.

In his world, in his extensive experience with women, returning money only meant one thing: she thought it wasn't enough. She was playing the long game, trying to hook him for a much larger payout down the line.

Jude stood up abruptly. He closed the distance between them, his massive frame casting a dark shadow over her. The sheer physical intimidation made Blaire stumble backward until her spine hit the wall.

"What exactly is your game?" Jude demanded, his voice a low, dangerous growl.

Blaire shrank back, her eyes wide with total confusion. "I don't have a game! I just don't want to take advantage of you!"

Jude let out a harsh, mocking laugh. He opened his mouth to tear apart her little act, but his private, encrypted phone suddenly began to ring in his pocket.

The custom ringtone belonged exclusively to the Brewer Matriarch. Jude glared at Blaire, his chest heaving, before he spun on his heel and marched out onto the small balcony, sliding the glass door shut behind him.

He answered the call. "What?" he snapped.

"Watch your tone, boy," the Matriarch's booming voice echoed through the speaker. "Did you get the license? You didn't mistreat the poor girl, did you?"

Jude lowered his voice, grinding his teeth. "She is a master manipulator. She just turned her nose up at a thousand dollars. She's playing hard to get."

The old woman burst into loud, booming laughter. "She's sensible! Stop using your cutthroat boardroom paranoia on my granddaughter-in-law!"

The old woman intentionally raised her voice to a near-shout. "And don't you forget about your oceanfront estate in the Hamptons! Don't actually start believing you're a beggar!"

Jude's blood ran cold. He immediately took three long strides to the far end of the balcony, pressing his back against the brick wall to muffle the sound, and whipped his head around, staring through the glass door into the living room.

Blaire was standing in the open kitchen, her back to him, loudly rummaging through the empty refrigerator, while the blaring sound of a blender she had just turned on to make a smoothie completely drowned out the outside world. She was also wearing a pair of white wireless earbuds, nodding her head to an unheard beat. She hadn't heard the fatal slip.

Jude dragged a hand down his face, exhaling a harsh breath. He gave his grandmother a clipped, angry response and hung up. He stared at Blaire's back through the glass, the seed of deep, toxic misunderstanding firmly planted in his chest.