Chapter 4 The Flat Wife

The soft glow of the crystal chandelier above cast elegant shadows across the marble floor. Everything about this penthouse screamed luxury—cold, soulless luxury. It's funny how money could buy you everything, except love. I sat upright in the oversized designer chair, legs crossed like a queen on her throne—except this was no fairy tale. It was a battlefield. My battlefield. Brandon Blackwell—my husband—stood across from me in a sharp Armani suit like he owned the world. Maybe he did, but right now? I wanted to rip that perfectly tailored jacket off his arrogant body and set it on fire. His icy gray eyes stared down at me, calculating. “Aria, I didn’t come here to fight. I came to tell you how it’s going to be.” I raised a brow, swirling the champagne glass in my hand. “Is that so?” I took a slow sip, savoring the taste—anything to avoid throwing it in his face. “Well, by all means, enlighten me, Brandon.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, casually, like this was just another boardroom deal. “Savannah is moving in.” I stilled, the glass trembling just slightly in my hand before I forced my fingers to tighten. “Oh?” I set the glass down with a soft clink on the glass coffee table. “And here I thought you were already sharing a bed behind my back. Guess now you want to make her official?” Brandon’s jaw tightened. “It’s complicated, Aria.” I laughed, standing to my full height, my heels clicking on the marble-like gunshots. “Oh no, Brandon. It’s actually very simple. You’re cheating. And now you want to parade her into my house like she belongs here.“ His eyes darkened. “It’s not like that.” “Oh, please,” I snapped, folding my arms. “Do not insult my intelligence. We both know exactly what this is.” “I love her,” he said quietly, like that would excuse everything. I blinked. The words sliced through me, but I refused to let him see the wound. “You love her,” I repeated with a cold smile. “Right. And what about me, Brandon? Did you ever love me? Or was I just another contract in your empire-building fantasy?” His mouth twitched, but he didn’t answer. “Wow,” I breathed, shaking my head. “That’s all I need to know.” He took a step toward me. “Aria, don’t be dramatic.” “Dramatic?” I laughed bitterly. “You bring your mistress into my home and expect me to play house like some Stepford wife? You have no idea what dramatic looks like, darling. But trust me, you’re about to find out.” He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking less sure. Good. “She’s not a mistress anymore,” he muttered. My eyes narrowed, my voice sharp like a blade. “No? Then what is she? Your second wife? Your little PR move to play ‘happy family’ while you push me aside?” He glanced away, and that’s when I knew. “Oh, my God,” I whispered. “That’s exactly what you’re doing.” “It makes sense, Aria. Savannah and I—” I held up a hand. “Don’t. Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” The silence stretched between us like a taut wire ready to snap. “So let me get this straight,” I said finally, voice dangerously calm. “You want me to stay in this house, smile for the cameras, and let her move in like she owns the place. While you parade her around as if she were your new trophy? Do you honestly think I can be your flat wife—a figurehead you can replace without a second thought?” He blinked, caught off guard by the term. “A flat wife?” he repeated, his tone wavering for a moment before regaining its coolness. “That’s not what this is.” He exhaled, clearly frustrated. “It’s business, Aria. You know how important image is. The board—” I laughed again, sharp and cold. “Don’t you dare bring the board into this. This is not about business. This is about you thinking you can have everything—the wife, the mistress, and the empire.” Brandon’s eyes flashed, his own anger surfacing. “You’ve always been difficult, Aria. Always pushing back, always fighting me.” “Yeah? Well, guess what, Brandon? You married a fighter.” His expression darkened. “You knew what you signed up for.” I stepped closer, so close I could see the flecks of silver in his eyes. “No, Brandon. I signed up to be your wife, not your pawn. You don’t get to rewrite the rules halfway through the game.” He stared at me for a long moment, and for a brief second, I thought I saw something like regret in his eyes. But it was gone in a flash. “I’m offering you a way to keep your position,” he said coldly. “My position?” I scoffed. “Like I’m some piece on your corporate chessboard?” “If you leave, you’ll lose everything,” he warned. I smiled, slow and dangerous. “Oh, sweetheart. You should know by now—I never play a game I can’t win.” Brandon looked at me like he didn’t even recognize the woman standing before him—and maybe he didn’t. Because I wasn’t the same woman who walked into this marriage blinded by love and loyalty. “I’ll give you a day to think about it,” he said, turning toward the door. “Don’t bother,” I called after him, my voice cold as ice. “I’ve already made up my mind.” He paused, but he didn’t turn around to face me. “I hope she was worth it, Brandon,” I added quietly. “Because you just lost the best thing you ever had.” And with that, I walked out of the room, head held high, heartbroken, but I'll be damned if I would let him see me fall. As soon as I stepped into my room, I let the mask slip. My hands trembled as I braced against the door, my chest rising and falling in deep breaths. How dare he? I stared at my reflection in the mirror—perfectly polished, perfectly broken. If Brandon wanted a war, he was about to find out exactly what that looked like. I walked over to my closet, yanked out my suitcase, and started packing. By the time I was done, I looked at my phone. One name on my contact list stood out—Ethan Stone. Brandon’s former right hand. Who is now a billionaire. The one man who had always seen me. I hesitated for a second, then hit call. When he answered, his deep voice slid over the line like silk. “Aria?” “Hey,” I said, swallowing my pride. “You still good at taking down empires?” He didn't respond, but then he let out a slow, dangerous laugh. “Always. You ready to burn it all down?” I smiled, dark and sharp. “Oh, I’m ready.”