Chapter 5 A Billionaire's Bride

POV: Susan Blake

"They say the view from the top is beautiful. But when your view is from the lens of a pawn, it just feels like another kind of prison."

Mark's penthouse didn't feel like a home, it was like a museum-too clean, too quiet, and far too expensive to touch.

The moment I stepped in, I was swallowed by glass walls, high ceilings, and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city like a throne room over its kingdom. Everything was gray and silver, sleek and soulless.

"You're welcome Miss Susan Blake," One of the stewards bowed.

"Welcome to the Hendersons paradise." He said.

"Woww. This indeed is more than paradise. This is heaven, Mark."

"Hey! Don't be so fast." he leaned in close to my ear, "Remember am still your boss."

The reminder was a recall to my rightful of place of servanthood. To someone that can't find real love, but only a pawn.

"Brian. Take her to her room." He said, scrolling through his phone without looking at me.

Not our room-my room. Apparently, appearances were everything... except in private.

The bed looked like it cost more than my entire childhood. There, at an edge was a wardrobe stocked with designer clothes in sizes I hadn't even given him. A stylist must've been involved.

Of course.

I ran my fingers along a velvet dress hanging on a gold rail.

This was the life I had agreed to, but it didn't feel like mine.

"Mr. Mark says you should get prepared for a charity gala tonight." Brian said before leaving.

By nightfall, I was dressed and ready for the charity gala.

The dress was black silk, off-shoulder, with a slit that made me feel like I'd either rule the world-or trip and embarrass myself in front of it. My heels were too high. My makeup was perfect. My hands wouldn't stop shaking.

Mark met me in the foyer, adjusting his cufflinks with casual detachment.

His gaze slid over me. Then paused.

His expression didn't change... but something flickered in his eyes. Something that made the breath catch in my throat. "You look good," he said simply.

"You too," I replied, trying to match his indifference.

He offered his arm. "Can we?"

I hesitated, then took it. "We can."

The drive to the gala was silent.

But my heartbeat wasn't.

"I know you're scared of what might happen or what people might say. But don't worry about them. What matters is that you have me." Mark's voice cut through the silence.

"The truth of the matter is that I don't have you," I said, my tune high above a whisper. "It's obvious to the both of us that this is just a contract marriage, and I am really uncomfortable with this Mr. Mark."

"Oh! Well, she calls it Mr. Mark." He grinned.

I was about to reply when my eyes caught someone on mask from my side mirror with a camcorder. The person was riding on a bike beside us, as though he/she had been following us all this while.

But immediately the person noticed my observation, it cringed, taking another route out of sight.

The ballroom glowed with chandeliers and power.

It was filled with the kind of people who smiled with their teeth but calculated with their eyes. Every woman wore diamonds. Every man wore ambition. And every single one of them looked at me like I didn't belong.

Which, of course... I didn't.

Mark introduced me as his wife. That word struck like thunder every time it fell from his lips.

Most people nodded politely.

Some women smiled too tightly.

Some men stared too long.

And then there was her. The same person I saw on the picture frame at Mark's office.

"That face looks familiar," I said, tapping Mark who stood beside me.

"No. Not here. That's Evelyn Carter."

"Oh! The ex-fiancée you told me about."

"Ya." He responded, his eyes rested on her as she made her a way through the red carpet.

She wore crimson-a color too bold for the event, too intentional. Like blood, like warning.

Her hair was swept back in a way that showcased her sharp jaw and cruel smile.

"Well," she purred, gliding toward us with a champagne flute in hand, "Mark always had a thing for strays."

My blood ran cold.

Mark's jaw tightened. "Evelyn."

She turned to me with faux innocence. "You must be Susan. What was it you did before this? Coffee runs and typo corrections?"

I smiled, keeping my voice sweet. "Yes. And I'd be happy to forward your resume, if Mark ever needs another assistant."

Her smile cracked-just for a second.

Mark said nothing. But when I glanced at him, I saw it-the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Here comes the lady who seem to be full of herself, not knowing the dark game she had just signed off for." Susan said, her voice laced with venom.

"Hey. Hey. It's okay," Mark swiftly stood in between us. "You can leave now, Evelyn."

She spat, giving a warm laugh, "Lastly before I leave-Don't think you both can fool me or the entire world with this charier you call marriage. This is just a contract and I have the evidences to prove that."

For a moment, my heart skipped a beat, "You would want to shut that mouth of yours," I leaned towards Mark's chest for a kiss. "I love my husband and he loves me. Two person's madly in love won't think of that."

"Stop being a stupid, bitch."

"Now leave, Evelyn before I do something dramatic." Mark intercepted the already tensed air.

She laughed sneeringly, her eyes locked on me. "I will, Mark, but I want you and your supposed wife to get ready."