Chapter 3 The price she has to pay

Ava Monroe stared at herself in the mirror and almost didn't recognize the woman looking back.

The stylist Julian sent to her had been a whirlwind of velvet boxes and fast decisions. The gown she wore now was deep emerald satin, cut low at the back and fitted perfectly to her curves. Her hair was swept up into a soft knot, and her lips were painted a rich rose. For once, she didn't look tired or worn down.

She looked... expensive.

But that wasn't the strangest part.

It was the wedding ring on her finger, catching the light as if mocking her. A diamond so delicate and cold, it felt more like a chain than a jewel.

A knock came at the door.

"You ready?" Julian's voice filtered in.

Ava swallowed hard. "As I'll ever be."

When she stepped out, Julian looked up from his phone-and stopped.

His expression didn't change much. Not really. But something in his eyes flickered. His usual icy detachment cracked just slightly, revealing surprise... and maybe something else.

"Is it too much?" she asked, fidgeting with the bracelet.

"No," he said slowly. "It's perfect."

He offered her his arm.

She hesitated before sliding her hand into the crook of his elbow.

"Let's get this over with," she murmured.

Julian didn't answer, but his grip tightened ever so slightly.

⸻

The Blackwell Foundation Gala was held at The Halcyon, the most exclusive rooftop venue in the city. Just getting past the lobby required name recognition or a six-figure donation. For Julian, it was just Tuesday.

Ava stepped out of the car onto a red carpet already glittering with camera flashes. Photographers shouted his name the moment they arrived.

"Julian! Over here!"

"Is that your wife?"

"Who is she wearing?"

Ava froze for half a second before Julian leaned down, his lips brushing her ear.

"Smile. And stay close."

She nodded once, then turned her face toward the cameras.

Julian placed a hand low on her back, and they walked the carpet together-beautiful, controlled, and convincingly intimate. Ava hated how natural it felt to lean into his side, how easy it was to play the role of the adored wife.

Inside, the ballroom sparkled with gold chandeliers and crystal centerpieces. Waiters floated by with champagne flutes and trays of caviar. The room smelled like wealth and power.

Julian led her through a sea of polished faces, nodding at CEOs, senators, and shareholders.

"Julian," an elegant older woman cooed as she approached. "And this must be the mystery bride."

Ava forced a smile as the woman gave her an assessing once-over.

"I'm Evelyn Blackwell. Julian's aunt."

"Nice to meet you," Ava said politely.

"You're even prettier than the rumors," Evelyn said with a cool smile. "But then, pretty doesn't always mean smart."

Ava blinked.

Julian cut in, smooth and sharp. "Ava graduated top of her class at NYU and speaks three languages, Evelyn. Would you like to test her French or move on to another insult?"

Evelyn blinked, thrown off.

Ava stared at him.

He'd defended her. In public. Without hesitation.

Evelyn gave a tight smile. "I'll see you both at the auction."

As she walked away, Ava leaned closer. "Thanks for that."

Julian didn't look at her. "She was testing you. You passed."

"I'm not a puppy."

"No," he said, almost softly. "You're not."

⸻

Later in the evening, after a forced toast and several polite conversations Ava barely followed, she found herself near the edge of the rooftop garden, finally alone.

The city sparkled beneath them, alive and endless.

She closed her eyes and let the cool breeze wash over her.

"You're not just a pretty face, are you?"

The male voice behind her wasn't Julian's. It was smoother. Too charming.

She turned to see a man in a charcoal tuxedo, his dark blond hair slicked back, a smirk playing at his lips.

"I'm sorry?"

"I've been watching you," he said with a lazy smile. "You don't belong in his world."

"Excuse me?"

He stepped closer. "Julian Blackwell doesn't marry. He acquires. And you? You're clearly not one of his usual acquisitions."

Ava narrowed her eyes. "Do you always harass married women at parties, or am I just lucky?"

He laughed. "You're quick. I like that."

"Then you'll like this even more-walk away."

Julian's voice cut through the air like a blade.

The man's smirk faded slightly as he turned. "Julian. Always a pleasure."

Julian's hand found Ava's waist in a possessive grip that sent an unexpected shiver through her.

"Leave," he said flatly.

The man raised his hands. "Touchy, touchy. I was just introducing myself to your wife. You remember introductions, don't you?"

Julian's jaw clenched. "Damian."

Ah. So that was him. The infamous Damian Vale. Julian's former best friend turned business rival. Ava had seen his name on a few tense emails in the office. She never knew he was this charming-or this dangerous.

"I'll be seeing you both," Damian said, nodding to Ava with a wink before walking off.

Julian didn't speak for a long moment.

"What was that?" Ava finally asked.

He looked down at her. "Trouble."

"I gathered that."

Julian's eyes darkened. "Stay away from him. Don't talk to him. Don't look at him."

Ava raised a brow. "Jealous?"

His expression didn't change. "Protective."

"Same thing in a contract marriage?"

"Don't test me, Ava."

"I didn't say a word to him. He came to me."

Julian stepped closer, his voice low. "I'm serious. He's dangerous. He ruins everything he touches."

"I can handle a few words and a smirk."

Julian's hand slid up her back, settling between her shoulder blades, the contact burning through the fabric of her dress.

"You don't understand the kind of game Damian plays," he said. "But you will. And I won't let him use you to get to me."

Ava's breath caught.

Something had shifted between them. It wasn't just control anymore. It wasn't about the contract or performance.

He meant it.

The music changed inside, signaling another toast. But they stayed still, the city buzzing below and the distance between them crackling.

She finally spoke. "Are you always like this?"

"Like what?"

"Controlled. Cold. Calculated."

Julian didn't blink. "It's the only way I've survived."

"And the only way you'll win?"

His lips twitched. "It's worked so far."

Ava studied his face, the shadows under his eyes, the tightness in his jaw. And beneath it all, she saw something wounded.

She wanted to touch it. But she didn't.

Instead, she said, "Come on, husband. Let's go pretend we're madly in love."

He offered his arm again.

This time, she didn't hesitate.