Chapter 4

The next morning, the broken picture frame was gone. The fireplace was clean. Sophia had cleared away the evidence of my outburst, just as she erased any trace of emotion from her life. We sat at the breakfast table, the silence thicker than ever. I couldn' t stand it.

"We need to talk about the terms of this... arrangement," I said, pushing my uneaten toast aside.

Sophia looked up from her coffee, her expression guarded. "What terms?"

"The rules," I clarified. "This is a professional relationship, a mission. I am a variable you need to control. So, let' s define the parameters. I need to know what' s real and what' s part of the act. I need honesty, Sophia. At least about the mission. I can' t live in a constant state of guessing what' s a lie and what' s a lie for national security."

"My work is classified, Ethan. You know that. I can' t just give you a mission briefing."

"I' m not asking for state secrets," I shot back, my frustration rising. "I' m asking for basic respect. I am your husband, even if it' s just on paper. My life, my home, my work are all entangled in this. I have a right to know when you' re going to meet him. I have a right to know if my safety is compromised. I need a baseline of truth to operate from, or I will go insane."

She considered my words for a long moment, her spoon tapping softly against her cup. "Okay," she said finally. "I will be more... transparent. I will inform you if a situation directly involves you or your work. But my methods, my interactions with the asset... those are my decisions to make. I have to maintain my cover."

"So, you' ll continue to meet him, to smile at him, to let him hold your hand?" The question was bitter.

"If the mission requires it, yes," she said, her gaze steady and unwavering. "My feelings don' t enter into it. It' s a job. You need to understand that."

"My feelings enter into it, though," I said quietly. "Because I' m the one who has to live with the man whose wife is pretending to be in love with someone else."

Before she could respond, the doorbell rang. A look of alarm crossed Sophia' s face. She glanced at the clock. It was early.

"Are you expecting someone?" I asked.

She shook her head, a frown creasing her brow. She went to the door, and I followed a few steps behind. When she opened it, my blood ran cold.

Liam Carter stood on our doorstep, holding a bouquet of flowers. He was dressed in a casual but expensive-looking jacket, and a charming, easy smile played on his lips. It was the same smile I had seen in the park.

"Sophia," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "I was in the neighborhood. I hope I' m not interrupting." His eyes flicked past her to me, and his smile widened, but it didn' t reach his eyes. "And you must be Ethan. The lucky man. Liam Carter. I' m an old friend of Sophia' s." He extended a hand.

I looked at his outstretched hand and then back at his face. I didn' t take it. "I know who you are."

Liam' s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. "Is that so?"

"Ethan, don' t," Sophia said, her voice a low warning. She turned to Liam, forcing a bright, welcoming smile. "Liam, what a surprise! Come in, please."

He stepped inside, his presence immediately filling the space, making it feel smaller, more suffocating. He handed the flowers to Sophia. "For you. To brighten up the new house."

"They' re lovely, thank you," she said, her tone unnervingly natural.

"So this is the place," Liam said, looking around with a proprietary air. He glanced at my home office, the door still open from the night before. "Sophia told me you' re an astrophysicist. Chasing aliens and whatnot. Must be fascinating." The words were friendly, but the tone was condescending. He was dismissing me, my life's work, in my own home.

"It' s more complicated than that," I said, my voice tight.

"I' m sure it is," he said with a patronizing chuckle. He turned his full attention back to Sophia, his back partially to me. "We still on for dinner Thursday? That little Italian place we love?"

My head snapped toward Sophia. She had agreed to dinner with him? After our fight? After I had begged her for honesty?

Sophia shot me a panicked look before schooling her features back into a calm mask. "Of course," she told Liam. "I' m looking forward to it."

I couldn' t take it anymore. "No, she' s not," I said, stepping forward. "She' s busy on Thursday. We have plans."

Liam turned to me, an amused glint in his eyes. "Oh? Is that right, Sophia? Did you forget you had plans with your husband?" He made the word 'husband' sound like a quaint, silly title.

Sophia looked trapped, her eyes darting between me and Liam. "Ethan, we can talk about this later."

"No, we' ll talk about it now," I insisted, my control slipping. "You' re not going to dinner with him."

"Ethan, that' s enough!" Sophia' s voice was sharp, a commander' s tone. She was defending him. In my own house, she was taking his side against me. "Liam is my friend. You have no right to dictate who I see."

The words hit me harder than the shattered glass from the night before. It was a perfect performance. She was the dutiful agent, protecting her mission, protecting her asset from her jealous, controlling husband. But to me, it was just a repeat of a decade of being made to feel small, of being shoved aside for him. I felt a wave of profound helplessness wash over me. I was being painted as the villain, the unreasonable spouse, and I couldn't say a word to defend myself without revealing the truth and potentially endangering everyone.

I looked from Sophia' s cold, angry face to Liam' s triumphant, mocking smile. I was completely and utterly alone, trapped in a lie that was suffocating me. I turned and walked away, heading back to my office and slamming the door shut. The sound echoed the closing of a cell door.