The federal building's marble floors echoed with old power. It was heavier than the sleek halls of Sterling Enterprises. Elara's new office was spacious. It had a view of the National Mall. It felt sterile.
A stack of briefing books sat on her desk. It was a foot high. A daunting monument.
Her first week was a barrage. Meetings. Introductions. Deciphering unspoken hierarchies. Her deputy, Carol, was impeccably polite. Her eyes held an assessing gleam. She was waiting for the "corporate star" to falter.
Elara felt every glance. Every murmured comment. She was an outsider. This world was determined to remind her.
Late one evening, she finally called Victor. His face filled her tablet screen. An anchor.
"How was the first battle?" he asked. A faint smile touched his lips.
"It's trench warfare," she sighed, massaging her temples. "Everything moves at a glacial pace. I suggested streamlining. They formed a sub-committee to review 'feasibility.' It could take months."
Victor's smile faded. "You're used to giving orders. There, you give suggestions into a labyrinth. It requires patience."
"I know," she said, frustration threading her voice. "I feel like I'm not accomplishing anything. I saw the news alert. Sterling stock dipped three points. Is everything alright?"
His expression shifted. The CEO mask slid into place. "Minor market correction. A reaction to new labor regulations. Marcus and I are handling it."
It was a dismissal. Gentle, but final.
The old Victor would have dissected it with her. This Victor was shouldering burdens alone. The physical distance was creating an emotional one.
She felt it through the bond. A deliberate, shielding wall. He was trying to protect her. By shutting her out.
"Victor…" she started.
He cut her off gently. "You have enough on your plate. Focus on your labyrinth. I have everything here under control." His tone was final. "Get some rest, Elara. You look tired."
The call ended. Silence filled the sterile office.
She was tired. But more than that, she felt a lonely chill. A feeling from before their bond. The price of her ambition was clear.
She had gained a nation's capital. She felt a thousand miles from her husband.
---
The penthouse silence was a physical presence. Victor ended the call. Elara's tired, frustrated face was seared into his mind.
He hated it. He hated the distance. His instinct was to board his jet and tear down the labyrinth for her. But he couldn't. That would undermine her.
So he buried himself in work. The three-point dip wasn't minor. It was a targeted probe from a hedge fund tied to old enemies. A test of resilience while his co-leader was distracted.
His response was swift. Brutal. He cost the fund millions. The victory felt hollow. Conducted in silence.
Days later, he stood in her empty walk-in closet. His hand brushed the sleeve of her emerald gown. Faint jasmine clung to the fabric.
The bond felt stretched. A taut wire humming with stress and separation. He felt her determination. Beneath it, a thread of loneliness.
His phone buzzed. Marcus.
"The board is getting restless, Victor." Marcus's voice lacked its usual calm. "They see Elara's absence as a lack of focus. They're questioning the dual-leadership model. Davison is circling."
Victor's grip tightened on the phone. This was the price. The vultures were swooping. The warmth he'd allowed in was seen as weakness.
"Schedule a meeting," Victor bit out, his voice cold. "I'll remind them where the focus is."
He ended the call. The CEO mask was firm. But in the too-quiet penthouse, the mask felt heavy. He was protecting their empire. He was building a wall between them.
"Handling it" alone felt dangerously close to the isolation he'd left behind.
---
The boardroom air was thick with new tension. Victor sat at the head of the table. Icy control radiated from him. The usual deference was absent.
Charles Davison leaned forward, emboldened. "Victor, we respect Ms. Whitethorn's new endeavors. But her focus is divided. Leadership requires presence. Perhaps it's time to appoint a sole, dedicated COO. For stability."
Other members shifted. None spoke against him. The sentiment festered beneath the surface.
Victor's gaze pinned Davison to his seat. "The 'stability' of this company," he said, voice dangerously quiet, "is a direct result of Elara Whitethorn's initiatives. The Sterling-Whitethorn project increased our brand equity by twenty-two percent. Her 'divided focus' yields greater returns than this board's last five years."
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.
He dismantled the argument with cold, hard data. His words lashed like a whip. He defended her. He defended their partnership.
He did it from a place of solitary, furious authority. He was the fortress. Alone.
---
That night, his phone buzzed. Elara. He considered letting it go. The day's weight was a heavy cloak. But the bond pulled at him. An aching need.
He answered.
"Victor? Is everything okay?" Her voice was laced with concern. "I felt a surge of anger through the bond earlier. It was intense."
He closed his eyes. "It's handled. Just boardroom politics."
A pause. He felt her probing. Trying to sense what he wasn't saying.
"It felt like more than that. Talk to me."
The words were on his tongue. They're attacking you. They see your success as my failure. I had to stand alone.
Saying it would burden her. Distract her. It would prove the board right.
"It's nothing you need to worry about," he said, forcing neutrality. "How was your day?"
The shift was clumsy. Obvious.
The silence that followed was louder than any argument. The distance was now a chasm. Unspoken struggles. Well-intentioned lies.
The toll was growing heavier.
---
The silence on the call was deafening. Elara felt the wall Victor had built. Cold stone. He was shutting her out.
"Victor," she said, her voice firm. "Stop."
A short, weary breath. "Stop what?"
"Stop 'handling' me. Stop protecting me from the truth. I am your partner. That means the bad news, too. I felt your anger. That wasn't 'politics.' That was a fight. Were they attacking me?"
Her directness left no room for evasion. Silence. Through the bond, she felt his defensive walls crack.
"…Yes," he finally admitted, the word rough. "Davison. He used your absence. Pushed for restructuring. Questioned our model."
A cold fury washed through Elara. Sharp and clean. This was an enemy she understood.
"And what did you do?"
"I eviscerated him. With data. He won't speak against you again."
"Good." Her mind raced. Shifting from lonely wife to strategic ally. "But he's a symptom. They see us as divided. We need to show them we're not."
"How?" The question was genuine now. He was listening.
"We leak it." A plan crystallized with stunning clarity. "A friendly journalist 'discovers' my first policy draft. It has tax incentives for corporations that meet high environmental and community benchmarks. Benchmarks Sterling Enterprises already exceeds."
She paused, driving the point home. "My work isn't a distraction. It's creating a favorable legislative environment for the company. My success there is a direct asset to the board's bottom line."
Silence from Victor. But she felt the shift through the bond. Admiration. A rekindled shared front.
"You're brilliant," he murmured, warmth returning.
"No," she corrected, a slow smile touching her lips. "We're brilliant. Now, let's go on the offensive. Together."
The chasm closed. Bridged by strategy. A renewed vow.
---
The coordinated strike was precision itself. Within twenty-four hours, an article appeared. A major financial publication. It highlighted the pro-business parts of Elara's policy. It named Sterling Enterprises as the model.
The effect was immediate.
In the boardroom, Charles Davison was silent. His argument was now foolish. Elara's "distraction" was positioning the company for massive tax benefits. Victor didn't need to say a word.
The article was his shield. Her spear.
---
That night, their video call felt different. The tension was gone. Replaced by the warm hum of shared victory.
"Davison looked like he'd swallowed a lemon," Victor reported, a relaxed smile on his face. "The board is pacified. For now."
"Good. It proves we can fight on two fronts." She looked at him, expression softening. "But we can't keep shutting each out, Victor. We tried being solitary forts. It almost broke us."
He nodded. The lesson learned. "No more walls. From now on, we share the burden. Always."
"Always."
They spent the next hour not talking business. They shared minor frustrations. Amusing stories. The mundane, intimate glue.
As the call wound down, a comfortable silence settled. The physical distance remained. The emotional chasm was bridged.
"The price is high," Elara murmured.
Victor's gaze was tender yet fierce. "Then it's no longer a price. It's an investment. In us. And it's the best investment I've ever made."
The misunderstanding was closed. The first test was passed. Their foundation wasn't built on proximity.
It was built on trust. They would always be a united front.
---
Let me know which chapter you'd like me to re-edit next.