I used to think silence was empty.
But the silence in Leon's penthouse right now is anything but.
It hums.
It vibrates.
It presses against my skin like static before lightning strikes.
We haven't spoken since the board meeting—the one where Leon shattered every rule of professionalism by pulling me into his lap in front of the directors and kissing me like I was oxygen and he was drowning.
A performance for them, he said.
A strategy.
But no strategy should make my knees weak the way his mouth did.
I sit on the edge of the bed, fingers digging into the silk comforter as the door opens and Leon steps in—still in his suit, jacket off, tie loosened, eyes dark with something unreadable.
He studies me quietly.
I can't tell if he's angry… or something worse.
"Amelia," he finally says, his voice low, rough around the edges. "Why didn't you call me?"
I blink. "…Call you for what?"
His jaw flexes. "When your ex cornered you outside the office."
My heart stutters.
So he knows.
Of course he knows.
Leon Hale always knows.
"I handled it," I say stiffly.
"No," he replies, tone glacial. "You endured it. That is not the same thing."
I look away. "It's not your problem."
And I regret the words instantly.
The temperature in the room drops.
In three steps he's in front of me, one hand gripping my chin firmly—but not painfully—and tilting my face up to his.
"Not my problem?" he repeats, voice dangerously soft. "You are my wife."
"It's a contract—"
"That changes nothing." His thumb brushes the corner of my mouth, sending a tremor through me. "You don't get to face threats alone."
My throat tightens.
I don't know what to say to that.
I don't know how to breathe around it.
He sits beside me slowly, as if giving me time to pull away.
I don't.
"Tell me exactly what he said," Leon demands—quiet, but sharp enough to cut steel.
I swallow. "He said he wants me back."
Leon's hand curls into a fist on his knee.
"And… he said marrying you was a mistake."
Leon laughs—a cold, lethal sound. "A mistake? The only mistake was thinking he was worthy of you."
My chest tightens painfully.
Why does he say things like that so easily?
Why does it feel like truth when it should be manipulation—strategy—performance?
I look down at my hands. "He also said… that you'll discard me when the contract ends."
Leon goes still.
Absolutely, terrifyingly still.
Then he stands abruptly, pacing away from the bed as if he needs distance to keep himself from breaking something.
"Amelia," he says without turning, "come here."
My heart skips.
I hesitate, but some invisible thread pulls me to my feet.
When I'm close enough to touch him, he turns—and his hand wraps around my waist, yanking me against him in one smooth, commanding motion.
"I don't know how many times I need to say this," he murmurs, breath brushing my cheek, "but I am not letting you go."
I tremble. "…Even after the contract?"
His eyes burn into mine.
"There is no 'after' the contract."
My breath catches.
His hand slides up my spine slowly—deliberately—until his fingers curl into my hair.
"You belong with me," he says, voice low enough to feel rather than hear. "I chose you. I will continue choosing you."
This is too much.
Too intense.
Too dangerous.
I whisper, "Leon… people don't choose me. They choose what I can offer."
He pulls back just enough to look at me fully.
"No," he says, each word like a vow, "they were too blind to see your worth. But I am not blind. And I don't let go of what is mine."
My pulse thunders in my throat.
Is this real?
Is any of it real?
Before I can ask, his phone buzzes on the table.
He stiffens. "Stay here."
He crosses the room and answers.
I shouldn't listen.
But I do.
A voice—muffled but sharp—spills through the receiver.
"Mr. Hale, we have a situation. Someone leaked photos of your wife this morning."
My heart stops.
Leon's posture turns predatory. "What photos?"
"The ones with her ex."
Ice floods my veins.
"They're circulating on business forums already. It looks like… a lovers' reunion."
No. No. No.
Leon's voice drops to a deadly whisper.
"Shut it down. Every platform. Every rumor."
"We're trying, sir, but they're spreading faster than PR can control."
Leon hangs up.
He doesn't move.
He doesn't breathe.
Then he turns slowly, eyes cold enough to freeze oceans.
"What happened this morning," he says, voice controlled only by force of will, "is now on the internet."
My hands shake. "Leon, I swear—I didn't meet him on purpose. I told him to leave—"
"I know," he cuts in instantly, sharply. "I never doubted you."
Something inside me cracks.
He believes me.
Without hesitation.
But the danger isn't him.
It's the world.
"What do we do?" I whisper.
Leon steps toward me with purpose—CEO mode, war mode, the kind of mode that makes entire companies tremble.
"We take control," he says. "And we do it together."
My breath hitches. "How?"
He cups my face with both hands, grounding me. "We make a statement. A public one." His thumb strokes my cheek lightly. "And we show them exactly who you belong to."
My stomach flips. "Leon…"
"It's time," he says quietly, "to end their speculation."
He pulls me into his arms—not gently, not softly, but with a kind of fierce certainty that sends tingles down every nerve.
"I will protect our marriage," he murmurs into my hair. "You protect your heart from people who want to hurt you. Let me handle the rest."
For the first time…
I feel safe enough to breathe.
But safety doesn't last long.
Because the elevator doors suddenly ding.
Leon goes rigid.
I turn—
—and freeze.
Victoria walks in like she owns the place.
Tall. Elegant. Smiling like a blade disguised as a woman.
"Well," she purrs, eyes sliding to where Leon's hands still rest on my hips, "isn't this… domestic."
Leon's grip tightens—subtle, but enough to anchor me.
"Leave," he says, tone lethal.
She ignores him. "A little bird told me about the photo scandal. Looks like the press thinks Amelia still has a lover."
My stomach twists.
She smirks. "Poor Leon. You marry a charity case and she immediately embarrasses you."
Leon's expression darkens into something terrifying.
"Victoria," he says slowly, "take one more step toward my wife and I will destroy every investment your family has in this city."
She stops.
Her eyes narrow. "You're choosing her? Over me?"
Leon's reply is instant. "I chose her the moment I married her."
The room pulses.
Victoria's glare turns venomous.
"This isn't over," she says, voice trembling with fury. "You'll regret this—both of you."
She storms out, heels clicking like gunshots.
Silence falls again.
Then Leon exhales once—deep, slow, and undeniably angry.
I whisper, "Leon… I'm sorry."
He turns sharply. "Don't apologize. You did nothing wrong."
"But she—"
"She is irrelevant." His hand comes up, brushing a stray curl from my face. "The only person who needs reassurance right now is you."
My vision blurs.
"Amelia," he murmurs, "look at me."
I do.
And the way he looks back at me—
Not like a contract.
Not like a strategy.
Not like a possession.
But like a man who is terrified of losing something he never expected to want.
He says softly, "We will face this together."
My chest aches.
"Leon… why are you doing all this?"
His fingers slide down my cheek, tracing my jaw, settling under my chin.
His voice drops to something raw, unguarded, almost broken.
"Because losing you," he says quietly, "is the one thing I cannot afford."
Time stops.
My breath catches.
His eyes flick to my mouth.
And slowly—deliberately—he leans closer.
Not forceful.
Not demanding.
But with the certainty of a man who knows exactly what he wants.
And what he wants…
is me.
His lips brush mine—