First message
Marcus Reynolds had never believed in love.
He believed in legacy.
As the only heir to the Reynolds oil empire, his future had been decided long before he was born. At thirty-four, he was forced into a contractual marriage with the daughter of another old-money dynasty—an alliance negotiated by lawyers, executives, and their families long before either of them had a choice.
To the public, they were the perfect power couple. Magazine covers. Charity galas. Business headlines.
Behind closed doors, they were strangers.
The mansion was large enough for separate wings, separate bedrooms, separate lives. They shared dinners only when appearances demanded it before retreating to opposite ends of the estate.
Marcus filled his nights with actresses, models, and socialites. The tabloids chronicled every affair.
His wife never reacted.
No jealousy. No arguments. No disappointment.
She simply skimmed the headlines over her morning coffee and turned the page.
At first, Marcus appreciated the arrangement. No expectations. No complications.
But as months became years, her complete indifference began to unsettle him. She never questioned where he’d been or whether he’d come home at all.
Then, one evening, he returned earlier than expected.
Passing the library, he found her curled into an armchair beside the fireplace, wearing an oversized sweater with a novel in her lap and reading glasses perched on her nose.