Chapter 5 THE PRICE OF OBEDIENCE

It started with a choice.

Elise had wished to sign up for an art class.

Not because she was creative-she wasn't. But because it was hers. Something serene and uncomplicated. A few hours a week where she could forget that she was not Mrs. Damian Lancaster and just be.

She'd spoken about it casually over breakfast.

Damian hadn't even glanced up from his tablet.

"Cancel it."

Elise blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You don't have time," he told her. "Your calendar is filled this week."

"With what? Pretending to be decorative?"

His gaze crept upward. "With commitments."

"To you."

He put the tablet down. "To us."

"No, Damian. Let's just drop the charade that there's an us. There's you, and there's me-trying to get a sliver of self from the shadow that you cast."

His face pinched. "You're my wife. That shadow protects you."

"It buries me."

The words were gentle. Honest. And for the first time since their wedding day, she watched him falter.

"Elise-"

"I'm going."

He shifted back, his tone curt. "And if I said no?"

She rose to her feet.

"Then you'd be demonstrating exactly what I already fear-that you don't want a partner. You want possession."

And then she left.

For the first time.

Without asking him.

The class was in a sunny studio wedged between boutique shops in the city center. The teacher smiled warmly, addressing her by name. Nobody inquired who she was wed to. Nobody cared.

She dipped her brush in ochre paint and began, her movements hesitant at first. But with every stroke, her chest untensed.

Freedom wasn't booming.

It was silent.

It was color and breath and the knowledge that, for a few hours, she wasn't anyone's wife, or anyone's daughter.

She was Elise.

And that was enough.

---

When she returned, Damian was sitting in the sitting room with Gabrielle, reading something on his laptop. His jaw was clenched. Concentrated.

Gabrielle jumped up and fled the room.

Elise took off her coat and stood before him without flinching.

"I went."

He didn't move.

"I know," he said eventually.

"I'll try again next week."

His fingers contracted. "I won't prevent you."

There was silence.

"But I don't enjoy being tested."

She stepped closer. "And I don't enjoy being handled."

Their eyes met.

The space between them crackled.

She expected him to struggle. Would strike out. Instead-

"I'm not accustomed to someone walking away from me," he whispered.

"I'm not accustomed to anyone allowing me to walk toward something."

He looked down.

And for a moment-just a moment-she thought she saw guilt.

---

Two days later, the painting she had done was delivered in a plain frame by the studio assistant. She hadn't expected it-let alone for someone who worked there to let it in.

She was still staring at it when Damian walked by.

He stopped.

"You did that?"

She nodded.

He stepped closer. "It's... intense."

She laughed once. "You say that like it's a fault."

He did not smile. But something changed in his face.

"You ought to hang it," he said. "In your bedroom."

"I was considering the library."

He arched an eyebrow. "My library?"

"No. Ours."

A hesitation. Then a nod.

"Fair enough."

---

The following morning, Elise discovered a package on the marble table outside her door. There was a collection of professional-strength brushes, paints, and sketchbooks.

There was no note.

But she did not need one.

The gift was Damian's.

Small. Unspoken.

But significant.

---

---

And just when she thought the tide was shifting...

It happened.

---

"Elise," Gabrielle said, her face tight as she entered Elise's sitting room. "You're needed downstairs."

"Why?"

"There's been... an incident."

Elise followed her through the hall, her chest tightening. The staff were whispering. Eyes avoided her.

In the foyer, Damian stood with two men in black suits.

And in the middle of them-

A young woman.

Crying.

Pregnant.

Her eyes met Elise's and widened in fear.

"Elise," Damian said softly. "This is Mia."

"Who is she?" Elise asked, her tone sharp.

Damian did not answer.

Neither did Mia.

"I-I work for Lancaster Hotels. I-I had no idea he was married."

Silence.

Sharp. Destructive.

Elise's heart began to pound. "Excuse me?"

"She's lying," Damian said immediately. "There is no affair."

"Then why is she crying in our foyer?"

Mia blew her nose. "I-I am being threatened with being fired. I thought-he said I was important. That I had potential."

Elise's knees weakened a bit. She clung to the banister.

"You told her that?"

Damian looked worn out. "Not romantically. She misconstrued my mentorship."

"Construed it? She's pregnant, Damian!"

"I'm not the father."

Elise turned to Mia. "Is that true?"

Mia looked cornered. "I-I don't know anymore. I just-he was nice. For a while. I thought he'd assist."

Damian moved a step closer. "She's being manipulated by Julian."

The name sent a shiver down the air.

"Julian?" Elise panted.

"He's attempting to kill me. Again. She was told a falsehood. For the purpose of discrediting me."

Mia sobbed louder.

"I don't know what is real anymore," she sobbed. "I just needed help."

Elise's throat tightened.

This wasn't merely scandal.

This was a trap.

And in some way-she was trapped in the middle.

---

That night, the house was silent.

Elise sat in her room, going over every word.

The girl. The crying. Damian's unreadable face.

She wanted to trust him.

But doubt was an illness.

It creeps in unnoticed.

Kills trust in slow increments.

---

He knocked on her door at midnight.

She didn't open it.

He went in anyway.

"I didn't touch her."

"I don't know what to believe."

He sat down on the edge of the sofa. His shoulders slumped.

"Elise, I've made mistakes. I've used people. But I never lied to you."

She looked him straight in the eye.

"Then tell me everything. No filters. No damage control."

He hesitated.

Then he did.

---

He told her about Julian-his former partner, his brother in all but blood. How Julian had stolen the one woman Damian ever loved. How he'd betrayed him, swiped company secrets, and fled.

How he was here now.

Poisoning everything slowly.

And Mia? She was merely one pawn in the game.

"I don't trust people," Damian said. "But I trusted you."

Elise shook her head. "No, you manipulated me."

"Perhaps initially. But not anymore."

She swallowed hard. "I'm scared."

He reached for her hand. She didn't pull away.

"So am I."

---

The next morning, Elise walked into the press conference hand in hand with Damian.

Whispers exploded like fireworks.

They stood together at the podium.

Strong. United.

A front. A force.

But behind the scenes?

Their foundation was still fragile.

And she knew-

The war was only beginning.

-