Chapter 3 THE WIFE ON DISPLAY

The gala was a test.

Elise stood in front of the mirror, dressed in a sapphire gown that cinched at her waist and left one shoulder exposed, her makeup flawless, her jewelry cold against her collarbone.

She didn't recognize the woman in the mirror.

She was silence wrapped in beauty. A diamond without a setting. A trophy on display.

"Mr. Lancaster will be ready in ten minutes," Gabrielle answered over her shoulder, adjusting Elise's earring with precision. "Minimal speech unless spoken to directly. Smile, but subtly. You're supposed to be attractive, not desperate."

Elise didn't flinch. "And if I screw up?"

Gabrielle smiled icily in the mirror. "He'll let you know."

---

As she turned and headed away, Elise couldn't help but think, She's nearly as intimidating as he is.

The drive in the car was silent. Damian didn't even give her a greeting as she got into the back seat, only a nod and a glance. He wore black tie, his profile cut as ever, a man hewn from ambition.

"You look..." he began, then broke off.

Elise turned to him. "Like an investment?"

His eyes flashed to hers.

"Like someone they'll notice."

"Who's they, Damian? Your investors? Your rivals? The press?"

He didn't reply.

That was reply enough.

---

---

The Lancaster Foundation Gala was a power museum. Chandeliers glittered above tables of new money and old drive. Elise didn't know anyone, but they knew her.

Or at least, they knew whom she'd married.

"Smile, Elise," Damian whispered as photographers snapped photos. "You're not a hostage."

A dry laugh caught in her throat.

"Depends on who you ask."

Damian's hand slid to the small of her back, firm and controlling. "Tonight is important. Don't test me."

She turned to him, eyes level. "I'm not a pawn."

He didn't flinch. "You're my wife. Tonight, that's the same thing."

---

The night moved in waves.

Smiling. Nodding. Laughing at jokes she didn't hear.

She watched Damian work the room with ghastly ease. Every conversation a tactic. Every compliment a maneuver. He didn't just run businesses-he owned rooms.

And she was by his side, arm in arm, as if she were part of his empire and not just the price he paid to keep it spotless.

"Elise, sweetheart, come meet Olivia Sloane," Gabrielle's voice called out as she escorted her to a woman swathed in gold.

"Olivia is married to one of Damian's oldest board members," Gabrielle panted.

Olivia's smile was bright and thin. "So you're the new Mrs. Lancaster."

"Yes," Elise said softly.

"Pretty," Olivia said softly, eyes scanning over her like appraisal. "Quiet. They like them quiet."

Elise smiled politely. "Only until we learn to speak."

Olivia blinked, then gave a skewed head of curiosity. "You may last longer than the last one."

The last one?

Elise opened her mouth, but Olivia was already walking away.

---

Later, when Damian returned to her side, Elise asked the question softly.

"There was another one?"

His jaw tightened. "Another what?"

"Wife. Or... almost."

He did not answer immediately. "That's not your business."

"Sounds like it should be."

He gave her his complete attention, and for an instant, something flickered in his face. Regret? Anger? Pain?

"Elise," he growled, low and imperative, "I don't ask for your past. I deserve the same respect."

She swallowed hard. "You never asked because you assumed there was nothing to find out."

He didn't argue.

The cold between them intensified.

---

They left the gala at midnight.

The silence in the car this time was not pleasant-it was bitter.

Elise looked out of the window, New York whipping past, lights blurring. She did not want to weep. She did not even want to shriek.

She just wanted for one moment she did not think she was an ornament.

Finally, she found her voice. "You told me once not to wait around for someone to give me a voice."

Damian did not look at her. "I did.".

"Here's mine: I am not a chess piece. I may not have power, but I have eyes. And I know when I'm being used."

His jaw clenched.

She continued, gentler this time. "I didn't expect love. But I didn't expect to feel this... invisible."

He said nothing.

Not until they were shut away in the elevator.

Then, finally, he spoke.

"I don't want you to be invisible."

She blinked. "You don't behave as though you do."

He turned to regard her completely. "Because I don't know what to do with someone I didn't choose. You were coerced into this. I know that."

"So were you," she breathed.

Quiet stretched out again.

He exhaled a slow, acid breath. "The truth is, Elise, you frighten me more than any bargain ever did."

She stared.

"I... what?"

"Because you look at me. And I don't wish to be looked at."

---

That evening, she couldn't sleep.

Again.

But something had shifted.

He had told her she intimidated him.

Not because she was powerful.

But because she could look at him.

And maybe that was a kind of power, too.

---

The next day, Elise was in the kitchen in silk pajamas, making her own coffee, thumbing her nose at the housekeeper's skeptical glance.

She sat at the marble island and unfolded the business page of the Times.

When Damian came in, wearing a perfectly pressed navy suit, he stopped.

"Good morning," he said.

Elise looked up. "You're talking to me?"

He poured his own coffee. "We're married, Elise. Role-playing we're strangers is exhausting."

Her lips curled. "Whose fault is that?"

He looked at her for a long moment. "Mine."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you always this emotionally repressed in the morning?"

A ghost of a smirk that flashed and disappeared.

"Usually."

She nipped her lip, smiled. Barely.

But it was real.

---

Later that afternoon, Gabrielle entered with a list of meetings and fittings, but Elise cut her off.

"I'm taking the afternoon to myself."

Gabrielle frowned. "Mr. Lancaster-"

"Will be informed. But not asked," Elise said, echoing her words from days ago.

She grabbed her bag, her own choice of shoes, and walked out of the penthouse with a growing spark in her chest.

Maybe she was still small.

Still learning.

But she wasn't invisible anymore.

And she would not pretend.