Chapter 4 Forced to Stay

Olivia sat at the long dining table, staring at the untouched omelet on her plate. The silence in the penthouse was uncomfortable, like being in a museum after hours, all too quiet for comfort. She had barely slept, her mind spinning all night. Waking up married to a stranger was one thing. Being told by that stranger she couldn't leave was another.

She looked across the table.

Adrian sat at the other end, dressed in a crisp white shirt with the top button undone, sipping black coffee like this was just another normal morning. As if the chaos of the day before hadn't happened. As if she hadn't told her fiancé to leave. As if she hadn't shattered her own life with a marriage she didn't remember.

His eyes briefly met hers.

"What?" she asked, her voice sharper than she intended.

"You haven't eaten," he said, setting down his cup.

"I'm not hungry."

"You should eat."

"Are you going to force-feed me now?" she muttered.

He ignored the jab. "I asked the chef to keep it simple. You like mushrooms, don't you?"

She blinked. "How do you know that?"

He didn't answer. Just gave a small shrug and reached for the newspaper beside him.

There it was again, that air of quiet authority. Calm, composed, slightly irritating.

She stood abruptly. "I need air."

Before he could say anything, she grabbed her phone and stormed out to the balcony. The early spring breeze brushed against her skin, and she welcomed it. At least it reminded her she was still alive, still capable of feeling something real in the middle of all this madness.

A few minutes passed before she heard the glass door slide open behind her.

"You should wear something warmer," Adrian said.

"I'm fine," she replied without looking at him.

He didn't push. Instead, he leaned on the railing beside her, his gaze fixed on the skyline. Manhattan stretched before them; skyscrapers, the river, endless movement. Life kept going while hers felt like it had slammed into a wall.

"I want to leave," she said quietly.

"No," he replied.

She turned to him. "You said I'm in danger, but you haven't told me from what. You expect me to stay here without answers?"

"I expect you to trust me."

She let out a laugh. "You married me without my memory, and I'm supposed to trust you?"

He didn't flinch. "You'll understand soon."

"I'm tired of hearing that," she snapped. "I need answers now."

He stayed silent for a beat. "Fine. Let's talk about something else."

"Like what?" she asked, annoyed.

"Honeymoon."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

He turned toward her, one brow lifted just slightly. "It's tradition, isn't it? Husband and wife. Somewhere sunny, far from all this tension."

Her eyes narrowed. "You think this is funny?"

He shrugged. "A little sun and distance wouldn't hurt."

"Let me get this straight," she said, her voice rising. "You trap me in this apartment, refuse to tell me what's really going on, and now you want to take me on a honeymoon?"

"I thought a change of environment might help," he said calmly.

"You thought wrong."

Adrian didn't push. He simply studied her, expression still and neutral.

"You're unbelievable," she said. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"That's fine," he replied smoothly. "I wasn't serious. Just trying to lighten the mood."

"Well, it didn't work."

There was a moment of silence. Then he said, "If we're going to live under the same roof, we'll need to figure out how not to make every conversation seem like we are in a battle or something."

She folded her arms. "Then maybe stop trying to act like we're an actual couple."

He studied her. "We are."

She glared at him. "We're a legal mistake."

"Maybe. But until it's undone, we have to make it work."

She hated that he made sense.

He stepped away from the balcony railing. "We'll draw up rules. Boundaries. That might help."

"Like what?"

He thought for a moment. "We don't interfere in each other's business, although I would interfere in your business if you try to meet up with Ethan." When he said that, Olivia rolled her eyes and looked like she was about to say something but she kept quiet.

"Shared spaces stay neutral. No touching, unless necessary. And no pretending in public unless we have to."

"No pretending in public?" she repeated.

He turned back toward her. "There are people watching. Our marriage was real enough to be documented. The last thing we need is rumors or attention. I'm not interested in scandal."

"And if someone asks why I'm never smiling around you?" she asked coldly.

"Tell them I'm a terrible husband," he said without missing a beat.

She stared at him, not sure whether to be amused or insulted.

"I'll get the rules written down," he said, walking back inside. "We'll keep it professional."

Professional. In a forced marriage. Perfect.

She followed him in, rubbing her arms to warm up. As she stepped into the living room, she noticed a large stack of documents sitting on the coffee table.

She frowned. "What's all this?"

He didn't look up from his phone. "Financial records, property titles, a list of your new legal affiliations; banks, insurance, power of attorney forms. You're my wife now. Legally, you have access to all of it."

Her stomach dropped. "Why would you give me all this?"

"Because transparency is part of trust."

She blinked at him. He really did act like this whole thing was some kind of business deal.

"And what if I just take your money and disappear?" she asked, testing him.

His gaze lifted. "Then I chose wrong."

The calm way he said it unsettled her more than if he'd yelled.

She opened one of the files and flipped through the pages. Then stopped.

Her eyes froze on a familiar name.

She looked up slowly. "Why is my mother's name on this?"

Adrian's jaw tightened ever so slightly.

Olivia stepped forward. "Adrian. Why is Eleanor Carter listed as a beneficiary of one of your holding companies?"

He said nothing.

She tossed the file onto the table. "What does she have to do with any of this?"

Still, he didn't answer.

Her voice rose. "Tell me."

Adrian met her eyes. This time, his calm had vanished. There was something else in its place, something she couldn't quite name.

"You wanted answers?" he said. "Then you'd better sit down."