Naomi
The silence in the car on the way back to the penthouse is louder than the party ever was. Each block we pass in the dark, the city lights streaking past the tinted windows, is a mile of unspoken rage. Jacob’s hands are steady on the wheel. He drives with the same effortless control he uses to command a boardroom.
His hand is no longer on my back. The space between us feels like a canyon.
The elevator ride up is just as quiet. The doors slide open to the vast, empty living room, and the silence echoes off the marble and glass. I can still feel the sting of Lily Vanderbilt’s words, the weight of a hundred judgmental eyes.
I turn to him the moment the elevator doors close, my arms wrapped around myself. “That can never happen again.”
He loosens his tie, his gaze unreadable. “Lily is not someone I can control.”
“I’m not talking about her,” I say, my voice low and tight. “I’m talking about you. You stood there. You let her say those things about me, about Leo. You did nothing.”
“Creating a public scene would have given her exactly what she wanted. It would have validated her claims.”
“And what about validating me? Your wife?” I spit the word. It tastes like poison.
He takes a step closer. I take one back. “This is not a marriage, Jacob. We signed a contract. That party was a press release. So let’s be clear on the terms of our business arrangement.”
He stops, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Go on.”
“Separate rooms. You said it yourself. My room is my own. You are not welcome in it. Ever.”
He gives a slow, deliberate nod. “Agreed.”
“And Leo,” I continue, gathering strength. “We will be parents to him. But we are not a family. We will have meals together when he is awake. We will present a united front for him. But when he is in bed, you and I have nothing to say to each other.”
“So I am to be a father only between the hours of seven a.m. and eight p.m.?”
“You’re the one who wanted this transaction. These are my terms of service.”
For a moment, something flickers in his eyes. A flash of the boy I knew, wounded and angry. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the cold CEO.
“Fine,” he says, his voice clipped. “If that’s how you need this to be. For now.”
That last part hangs in the air between us. A threat. A promise.
He turns and walks toward the glass staircase without another word. I watch him go, feeling a small, hollow victory. I’ve built a wall. I just have to hope it’s strong enough to keep him out.
The next morning, I wake to the sound of Leo’s laughter. It’s a bright, beautiful sound that feels out of place in this sterile mausoleum.
I follow the sound to the kitchen, a gleaming expanse of stainless steel and white quartz. Jacob is on the floor with Leo, surrounded by the pieces of a complex-looking rocket ship made of magnetic blocks. Jacob is in a pair of soft grey sweatpants and a plain t-shirt, his hair slightly rumpled. He looks younger. Softer. Dangerously like the man I used to love.
“And this piece goes right here, see? That’s the command module,” Jacob is explaining, his voice patient and warm.
Leo gasps in delight. “For the astronauts!”
“Exactly. For the astronauts.”
They haven’t noticed me. I lean against the doorframe, a spectator in my own life. This is what he does. He follows the letter of my law, then finds a loophole big enough to drive a truck through. He’s not in my room, and we’re not speaking to each other. He’s just being a father.
A perfect, doting father.
“Mommy!” Leo finally spots me. He scrambles to his feet and runs to me, throwing his arms around my legs. “Daddy got me a space rocket! We’re building it for the moon!”
I force a smile, running my hand over his hair. My eyes meet Jacob’s over Leo’s head. His expression is neutral, but there’s a challenge in his gaze.
Checkmate.
“I see that, sweetie. It’s wonderful.”
“The three of us are going to the science museum today,” Jacob announces, standing up. “They have a life-sized model of the Apollo capsule. I thought Leo would like to see it.”
It’s not a question. It’s a statement of fact. And it’s perfectly engineered. How can I say no? How can I deny my son that joy, just to spite this man? I can’t. He knows I can’t.
“That sounds like fun,” I say, the words feeling like ground glass in my throat.
Leo cheers. Jacob just watches me, his blue eyes giving nothing away.
At the museum, Jacob is the model father. He lifts Leo onto his shoulders to see over the crowds. He answers every one of his endless questions about dinosaurs and planets with an encyclopedic knowledge I never knew he had. He buys him astronaut ice cream and laughs when Leo gets it all over his face.
He creates a perfect, shimmering bubble of family happiness, and I am trapped on the outside of it, forced to watch.
On the way out, he steers us toward the gift shop. While Leo is mesmerized by a display of glowing stars for his ceiling, Jacob comes to stand beside me.
“I had this delivered for you this morning,” he says quietly. He holds out a thin, black velvet box.
I stare at it. “What is it?”
“Open it.”
I don’t want to. I don’t want his gifts. His gifts are payments. They are chains. But Leo is watching, his eyes wide, so I take the box.
Inside, nestled on the velvet, is a platinum credit card. It’s heavy, sleek. My new name, Naomi Renner, is embossed in silver.
“There is no limit,” he says, as if he’s discussing the weather. “Buy a car. Buy a new wardrobe. Buy a new bakery, if you want. It doesn’t matter. It’s yours.”
I snap the box shut. The click is loud in the quiet store.
“No, thank you.”
His brow furrows. “What?”
“I don’t want it,” I say, pushing the box back into his hand. “I have my own money. I don’t need yours.”
“What you have is the dwindling savings from a small business I am in the process of liquidating,” he counters, his voice dropping. “This is practical.”
“This is a leash,” I whisper fiercely, so Leo can’t hear. “And I will not wear it. I am your son’s mother. I am not your kept woman.”
A muscle feathers in his jaw. The doting father vanishes, and the ruthless CEO is back.
“Take the card, Naomi.”
“No.”
We stand there, locked in a silent battle of wills over a small velvet box, until Leo runs over, holding a small, plush astronaut. “Can I get this, Mommy? Please?”
I break eye contact with Jacob first. I turn to my son and give him a real smile, the first one of the day. “Of course, sweetie.” I pull my own worn leather wallet from my purse and pay for the toy with my own debit card. It’s a small, pathetic act of defiance, but right now, it feels like winning a war.
That night, I can’t sleep. The penthouse is too quiet. I wander out of my room, my feet silent on the cold floors, and head toward the kitchen for a glass of water.
As I pass the hallway that leads to Jacob’s home office, I hear his voice. It’s low, but it carries in the stillness.
The heavy wooden door is cracked open just enough for a sliver of light to cut across the dark hall. I stop. I know I should keep walking. It’s not my business.
But this man is my business now. He made himself my business.
I creep closer, holding my breath.
“…not acceptable,” Jacob is saying. His voice is different. It’s hard, stripped of any warmth or civility. It’s dangerous. “I don’t care what it costs. The debt will be paid in full.”
A pause. He’s listening to someone on the other end.
“That’s not your concern. Your concern is containment. The Vanderbilt situation is handled for now, but this is a separate issue. An older one.”
My blood runs cold. Vanderbilt. He’s talking about Lily’s family.
“Listen to me very carefully,” he continues, his voice dropping even lower, becoming a lethal whisper. “The assets are here now. They are secure, and they will remain that way. I have spent six years building this fortress. No one gets near them. No one touches them. Do you understand me?”
Another pause.
“Good. Then make it happen.”
The line clicks dead. The silence that follows is absolute.
I back away from the door, my heart hammering against my ribs. Assets. He was talking about his company, I tell myself. Stocks. Bonds. Corporate holdings.
But the word echoes in my head, twisting into something else. The way he said it… so possessive. So final.
He called me part of the price. He called my son his heir. We are the new acquisitions.
We are the assets. And he has a debt to pay to dangerous people.
I retreat to my room, the cold wall he let me build now feeling like the flimsy gate of a cage. I thought the monster was the man who trapped me in this life. But what if the real monster is the one he’s trying to keep out?
