CHAPTER 4: First Night

LENA

I woke to sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows. The bedroom was three times the size of my old room, decorated in cold greys and whites that felt more like a luxury hotel than a home. For a moment, I'd forgotten where I was. Then I saw the platinum ring on my finger, and everything came rushing back.

I was Mrs. Julian Blackwood now.

I'd slept alone. After Mrs. Billy showed me to my room last night, Julian had disappeared into another wing of the penthouse without a word. I didn't know where his bedroom was, and I suspected that was intentional.

A soft knock came at the door. "Mrs. Blackwood? May I come in?"

"Yes," I called, sitting up and pulling the covers around me.

Mrs. Billy entered carrying a breakfast tray—coffee, fresh fruit, and toast with jam. She set it on the bedside table and smiled at me, a genuine warmth that caught me off, guard.

"Good morning, dear. I hope you slept well."

"I did. Thank you." I hesitated. "You don't need to bring me breakfast. I can get it myself."

"Nonsense. It's my job." She poured the coffee, the rich aroma filling the room. "Mr. Blackwood left for the office an hour ago. He said you're free to explore the penthouse, but his study and bedroom are off-limits."

Of course they were. "I understand."

Mrs. Billy paused at the door, her face softening. "I've worked for him for eight years, Mrs. Blackwood. He's not cruel, dear. Just... wounded. Give him time."

After she left, I ate quickly, barely tasting the food. Then I showered and dressed in the same clothes from yesterday—I had nothing else. The walk-in closet was empty except for a few hangers.

I spent the morning exploring. The penthouse was immaculate and expensive, all clean lines and designer furniture but it was completely devoid of warmth. No family photos. No personal touches. No indication that anyone actually lived here. It felt like a showroom, beautiful and empty.

I found myself in the kitchen, drawn by instinct. A few dishes sat in the sink from Julian's breakfast. Without thinking, I rolled up my sleeves and started washing them, then wiping down the counters, organizing the coffee mugs.

"Mrs. Blackwood?"

I turned to find Mrs. Billy watching me, she looked surprised and something like sad.

"What are you doing?"

"Just... cleaning up." Heat rose to my cheeks. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

She gently took the dish towel from my hands. "You're the lady of the house now. You don't need to do that."

I didn't know how to explain that I'd never been the lady of anything. That cleaning and organizing and making myself useful was the only way I knew to exist.

"I don't mind," I said quietly.

"I know, dear." She patted my hand. "But this is your home now. You should rest, explore, do whatever makes you happy."

I nodded, though I had no idea what that meant anymore.

Around noon, the elevator chimed. My heart jumped—Julian was home early. But when the doors opened, a different man stepped out. He was tall and handsome in a completely different way than Julian—warm brown eyes, an easy smile, wearing a casual suit like he was comfortable in his own skin.

"You must be the mysterious bride," he said, extending his hand. "Nate Reid. Nate. Jules's best friend and business partner since college." His handshake was warm and his smile genuine. "I had to meet the woman who finally got the Ice King to the altar."

I was caught completely off guard by his friendliness. "Lena Carter. Though I suppose it's Blackwood now."

"You suppose correctly." He studied me with curiosity not the cold assessment I'd grown used to, but actual interest. "So, Lena Blackwood, tell me—how did you and Jules meet? He's been annoyingly secretive about the whole thing."

I opened my mouth, scrambling for an answer that wouldn't be a complete lie, when Julian's voice cut through the room.

"Nate. You're early."

I turned to see Julian emerging from his study. He must have been here the entire time.

"I'm exactly on time. You're just annoyed I'm here." Nate grinned, completely unbothered by Julian's cold tone. He turned back to me. "I brought lunch from that Italian place you like, Jules. I figured your bride might be hungry too, since I'm guessing you didn't think to feed her."

Julian's jaw tightened. "Lena has access to anything she needs."

"But did you actually show her, or just assume she would figure it out?" Nate's tone was light, but there was a challenge underneath.

The tension between them lingered. Mrs. Billy appeared from the kitchen, saving the moment. "Lunch is ready in the dining room, gentlemen."

Nate offered me his arm. "May I escort you, Mrs. Blackwood?"

I glanced at Julian, not sure. His face was unreadable, but something dangerous showed in his eyes. I took Nate's arm anyway, grateful for the gesture, at least the human contact. As we walked to the dining room, I felt Julian's gaze burning into my back.

Lunch was the strangest meal of my life. Nate asked me questions—real questions about my interests, what I liked to read, and what I thought about the city. He treated me like a person, not an inconvenience or a contract obligation. He told funny stories about Julian in college, painting a picture of someone I couldn't quite reconcile with the ice-cold man sitting across from us.

"There was this one time sophomore year," Nate said, laughing, "Jules decided to pull an all-nighter before our economics final. Except he fell asleep at his desk, face-first in his textbook. Showed up to the exam with 'Chapter 12: Market Equilibrium' printed backward on his forehead."

I caught myself almost smiling. "What did he do?"

"He took the exam anyway. Still got the highest score in the class." Nate shook his head. "That's Jules. Too stubborn to admit defeat, even to a textbook."

Julian remained cold and silent throughout, methodically cutting his food, barely eating. But I noticed he watched every interaction between Nate and me. When Nate laughed at something I said and briefly touched my hand, Julian's fork clattered against his plate.

"Don't you have a meeting?" Julian asked sharply.

"Not until three." Nate checked his watch. "Which gives me another hour to get to know your lovely wife."

Julian's jaw moved, but he said nothing.

After lunch, Nate insisted on showing me the building's amenities. Julian claimed he had work and disappeared back into his study. Nate led me through the gym, the business center, and finally to a rooftop garden I hadn't known existed.

It was beautiful up here—real plants, actual greenery, a small oasis in the middle of the city. Nate led me to a bench overlooking the skyline.

"Can I give you some advice?" he asked gently.

I nodded.

"Jules is... complicated. He's been hurt badly, and he protects himself by keeping everyone at arm's length." Nate's expression was sincere. "But underneath all that ice, there's still a good man. Don't give up on him too quickly."

My throat tightened. "I don't think he wants me to find that man."

"Maybe not yet." Nate smiled. "And if he's ever too cold, too harsh... You have a friend in me. Okay?"

It was the first time in years someone had offered me genuine kindness with no strings attached. "Thank you, Nate."

We returned to the penthouse, and Nate left for his meeting. I spent the rest of the afternoon in my room, staring out at the city, feeling more alone than ever.

That evening, Julian's voice came through the intercom. "Lena. My study. Now."

I walked down the hallway on shaking legs. He stood by the window, his back to me, silhouetted against the city lights.

"I'm taking you to a business dinner tomorrow night. Investors, potential partners. You'll need appropriate clothes." He turned,m. "Nate will be there. I expect you to remember that you're MY wife, not his new charity project."

Before I could respond, his phone buzzed. He glanced at it, and his face darkened.

"Your sister is downstairs demanding to see you. Security is holding her in the lobby." His grey eyes locked onto mine. "Do you want me to have her removed, or do you want to deal with this yourself?"