Caliste was still finishing her hair when the knock came.
"We need to leave in fifteen," Lucian's voice called from the other side of the door—cool, crisp, unreadable.
"Got it," she answered without warmth.
She stared at her reflection. Red lips. Diamond earrings. A black silk gown that clung in all the right places. She looked the part of Mrs. Lucian Velmore.
But inside, she felt like a hollow version of herself.
The gala was for Velmore Foundation's 10th Anniversary—a must-attend for high society. Press, board members, sponsors… and most importantly, the family elders. There was no room for drama. They had to appear united.
They had to act.
The car ride to the venue was nothing but silence again. Lucian glanced at her briefly, taking in the way the moonlight caught her skin, but he said nothing.
Caliste kept her eyes forward.
They arrived at the hotel ballroom, flashing smiles as cameras exploded with light.
Lucian's hand slipped around her waist for the photos. Caliste leaned in automatically, their bodies close, but their hearts miles apart.
"You look stunning," he murmured in her ear, as the cameras clicked.
Caliste gave a practiced smile. "You clean up well too."
They moved through the crowd, exchanging greetings, sipping champagne, and pretending they were the perfect couple.
But behind every compliment was a chill.
Behind every smile, an ache.
Later in the evening, Lucian had to step away for a brief meeting with a sponsor.
Caliste took the moment to escape toward the quieter end of the ballroom, where the noise dulled and the clinking of glasses wasn't so deafening.
She didn't expect to hear a familiar voice.
"Cali?"
She turned—and there he was.
Jace.
In a sleek navy suit, glass of whiskey in hand, warm eyes wide with surprise.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, shocked but relieved to see him.
"Investor invite. My company's partnered with one of the auction sponsors," he said. "Didn't expect to see you at a place like this."
She laughed, and for the first time in days, it was real. "It's part of the package deal. You marry a Velmore, you smile at strangers in ballrooms."
He studied her. "You okay?"
She hesitated. Then nodded. "Yeah. I'm managing."
Jace didn't push. He just stood with her, casually talking about the art installations, the upcoming auctions, the fact that the hors d'oeuvres were "criminally under-seasoned."
For the first time all night, she could breathe.
Lucian spotted her across the room, talking to Jace again—laughing, relaxed. He clenched his jaw.
It wasn't the first time Jace had appeared at the edges of their life lately.
Lucian hated that Jace got the version of Caliste he now only saw in photos—alive, curious, warm.
When he returned to her side, Caliste straightened slightly, noticing the tension radiating off him.
"Ready to head home?" Lucian asked coolly.
"Already?" she blinked. "I was talking to—"
"Let's not make a scene, Caliste," he said quietly.
Her smile fell. Jace excused himself politely, sensing the storm.
Lucian placed his hand on the small of her back again, not lovingly—but like a reminder.
In the car, the silence returned, but this time, it was sharp.
"You didn't have to drag me out like that," Caliste muttered.
"I didn't drag you."
"You didn't have to make it so obvious."
Lucian didn't respond immediately.
When he did, it was low. "I didn't like how he was looking at you."
Caliste turned to him. "And what do you care? You made it clear this isn't about feelings."
That hit him harder than he wanted to admit.
"Don't twist my words," he said.
"I'm not twisting anything. I'm just playing my role, remember?"
She faced forward again, arms crossed tightly.
Lucian stared out the window, jaw clenched. He wanted to tell her he hated seeing her with someone else. That the smile she gave Jace used to be his.
But pride is a heavy chain, and he couldn't break it.
Not yet.
That night, Caliste shut her bedroom door and locked it.
Lucian stood outside it for a moment, hand hovering near the handle, before walking away.
Alone.
Again.
Days passed and the two started being casual with each other for the sake of the business deal their parents agreed.
Occasion at the Winslow Estate.
The Winslow estate gleamed under the soft golden lights of the main hall. The long oak dining table was set for twenty, adorned with polished silverware and floral centerpieces. Family dinners at the Winslows weren't just about food—they were formal affairs, a subtle battle of status, charm, and wit.
Lucian adjusted his cufflinks as they stepped through the grand doors. Caliste was beside him, effortlessly elegant in a pale blue silk dress that made her skin glow.
"You look like you've stepped out of a royal painting," Lucian said as they walked in, lips tugging into a smirk.
Caliste didn't miss a beat. "And you look like you stepped out of a business merger."
He chuckled low. "Flattery doesn't suit you, darling."
"Neither does sincerity," she replied sweetly, eyes forward.
Her father, Gregory Winslow, greeted them at the door with a warm smile that didn't quite reach his calculating eyes. "Lucian, Caliste. You're just in time."
The rest of the table—an assorted mix of cousins, aunts, uncles, and overly interested elders—was already seated, chatter dying down as the power couple arrived.
Lucian pulled out Caliste's chair, the perfect gentleman. She sat with a gracious smile, then whispered just low enough for him to hear, "Don't pull it out too fast next time. I might think you're trying to trip me."
"Tempting," Lucian murmured, taking his seat beside her.
The conversation over appetizers revolved around business updates and idle gossip. Caliste picked at her salad while her cousin Lila leaned over.
"So, how's married life?" Lila asked, her tone too curious.
Caliste smiled too brightly. "Perfect. Lucian lets me win arguments once a week."
Lucian raised an eyebrow, reaching for his wine. "Only the unimportant ones."
"Oh, like which side of the bed belongs to who?" Caliste asked sweetly.
He sipped slowly. "No. Like what color our towels should be."
A chuckle rippled around the table.
"Well, they say the best marriages have a bit of fire," said Aunt Bernadette.
Lucian leaned back, his arm casually brushing against Caliste's chair. "Oh, we have fire."
Caliste gave him a sidelong glare. "And smoke. Lots of smoke."
"Must be from all that passion," her uncle said.
"Or smothered resentment," Caliste muttered into her wine glass.
Lucian turned to her with a look of polite warning, but there was a glint in his eye. "Careful, darling. They might think we argue."
She smiled back. "They might not be wrong."
Dessert came—chocolate soufflé with gold flakes. Caliste took one bite and closed her eyes in bliss.
"This is heaven," she whispered.
Lucian leaned in. "Better than me?"
Caliste blinked, startled. "I—excuse me?"
"Your soufflé moan was a little... enthusiastic," he said smoothly.
She stared at him, cheeks warming. "You're ridiculous."
"But handsome," he added shamelessly.
"You're lucky my father is watching."
"You're lucky I haven't stolen your soufflé."
The elders—especially Caliste's mother—watched them closely, clearly pleased with their 'chemistry.' But Caliste could feel the strain in her jaw from all the fake smiling.
Just as the dinner was winding down, her father raised his glass.
"To the future of the Winslow and Velmore alliance. May it continue with strength... and possibly, a grandchild soon?"
Caliste nearly choked on her drink. Lucian stiffened beside her, but his expression didn't change.
She quickly recovered, laughing lightly. "Let's not bring up babies. Lucian still hasn't mastered basic empathy."
Lucian smiled through gritted teeth. "And Caliste still hasn't mastered turning off her sarcasm."
Her father chuckled. "Ah, young love."
If only they knew.
As the guests began dispersing, Caliste stepped out onto the veranda for air. Lucian followed moments later, finding her leaning against the marble railing, arms crossed.
"Do you always try to humiliate me in front of your family?" he asked, voice low.
She turned to him. "Oh, I thought we were just giving them a show."
"You enjoy pushing me."
"And you enjoy pushing back."
A beat passed.
Lucian looked at her, the moonlight softening her expression. "They really believe we're in love."
Caliste's lips tightened. "Maybe we're just good liars."
He stepped closer. "Or maybe you enjoy fighting with me more than you'd admit."
She swallowed hard but didn't move. "Go back inside, Lucian."
He didn't. Not right away.
But eventually, he turned and left her with her thoughts, the night echoing with the words they didn't say.