Chapter 4 Living Under Glass

~Sophia~

I woke up to a soft hum of birds filtering through the massive windows of the penthouse. For a moment, I lay still, staring at the ceiling, disoriented by the luxurious unfamiliarity of my surroundings.

The bed beneath me felt like it belonged to a five-star hotel, and the faint scent of fresh flowers drifted through the air. It was all so perfect, so polished and so far removed from anything that felt real.

My thoughts were interrupted by a gentle knock on the door.

"Mrs. Blackwell?" a female voice called.

I sat up frowning, it took me a moment to realize that the voice was addressing me. "Yes?" I replied.

The door opened slightly, and the lady from my wedding ceremony Isabel strotted in, balancing a tray of breakfast. She had warm brown eyes and an air of professionalism that didn't quite mask her curiosity.

"Mr. Blackwell asked me to check in on you and bring you breakfast with a warm smile etched on her face," she said, cutting my questioning gaze.

My stomach flipped at the thought of Julian already orchestrating my day "Thank you," I said forcing a smile.

Isabel set the tray down on a small table near the bed. "If there's anything else you would want me to do, please let me know. Mr. Blackwell had a meeting this morning but he asked me to ensure you're comfortable."

I nodded, I wasn't used to being fussed over, and the thought of Julian micromanaging my comfort felt both invasive and oddly considerate.

As Isabel left the room, I turned my attention to the tray. The spread was immaculate -perfectly sliced fruit, fluffy pastries, and a steaming cup of coffee. It was a stark contest to the stale cereal I usually had at home.

~Julian~

I sat in the sleek boardroom of Blackwell Enterprises, the city skyline stretching behind me. My father Gregory sat at the head of the table, his gaze as sharp as ever.

"Impressive quarterly number, " he said, though his tone was devoid of praise."But numbers aren't everything, Julian. Leadership is about more than spreadsheets."

My jaw tightened, but I kept my expression neutral. "The results speak for themselves," I said out loud.

"Results are temporary, legacy is permanent. Don't forget that" my father said while leaning back in his chair.

The subtle jab was clear- father still doubted my ability to carry the Blackwell name. My marriage to Sophia was supposed to help with that, but my father was a hard man to please.

As the meeting was adjourned, Crawford stood beside me.

"Any update on Marcus?" I asked, with a low voice.

He shook his head "Nothing concrete, but he's been meeting up with key investors behind the scenes, he's definitely up to something."

"Keep an eye on him, I want to know immediately any slight move he makes," I said.

~~~~~~~

~Sophia~

I wandered through the gigantic living room, my footsteps echoing against the marble floors. Still in awe of the money spent in bringing it to life. The living room was beautiful, it was adorned with much art, but it was void of life; it felt more like a showroom than a home.

I stopped in front of a massive painting hanging above the fireplace. It was abstract, with bold strokes of black and gold that seemed to swirl into chaos. I was lost in the beauty of the art

"That one's called Restraint," a voice said from behind me.

I turned to see Isabel standing in the doorway, her clipboard tucked under one arm.

"It's one of Julian's favorites," Isabel continued stepping closer."He bought it a few years ago from a gallery downtown."

"Julian appreciates art?" I asked with my eyebrow raised remembering vividly the night he told me he doesn't find art interesting, I thought.

Isabel smiled faintly "He's full of surprises."He would go to different art exhibits to gather up beautiful art that he added to his collection.

I doubted that Julian seemed as predictable as a ticking clock- cold, calculated, and utterly unyielding. Still, I found myself staring at the painting a little longer, wondering if there was something more to the man I'd agreed to marry.

~~~~~~~

I was flipping through a magazine when Julian returned, my expression guarded as he entered.

"You're back," I said, closing the magazine.

"Long day," he replied, loosening his tie. "I trust Isabel took care of you?"

I nodded, though the memory of Isabel's hovering presence made me feel like a guest more than a wife. "This place is... overwhelming." I blurted out.

"You will get used to it," Julian said while pouring himself a drink.

"Do you ever get used to it?" I asked hesitantly.

His hand paused mid-pour, but he didn't even spare me a glance "It's not about getting used to it. It's about making it work."

My stomach tightened at the detached tone of his voice. I wanted to press him more, to ask what he meant, but I held back.

"Should we talk about the public appearances you mentioned? I assume there's a schedule?" I asked, changing the topic.

His lips curved into a faint smile "efficient as always."

"I'm just trying to be prepared," I said, my voice coming out sharper than intended.

He took a sip of his drink, studying my reaction over the rim of his glass before answering "There's a charity event next week, you'll need to be there; Crawford will handle the details."

That was all he said as he went upstairs to his room. But something about the rhythm fell off like he was carrying a weight I couldn't see.