Audrey's POV
I didn't sleep.
Not because I was scared—but because my mind refused to let the night go. The image of her stepping into that hotel stayed with me. The confidence. The ease. The way she didn't hesitate, like this wasn't new.
Like she belonged in a world I was only beginning to see the edges of.
By morning, I'd decided something important.
I would not ask.
Questions gave power away. And I'd already lost enough of that.
Breakfast passed the same way it always did—quiet, controlled, carefully distant. Richard wasn't there. Again. The staff moved like nothing was wrong, like they hadn't noticed how often he came and went at odd hours.
Or maybe they had noticed and just knew better than to react.
"Is Mr. Drake in today?" I asked casually, keeping my voice even.
"He left early, ma'am," one of them replied. "Meetings."
Meetings.
I nodded and returned to my seat, appetite gone. That word meant nothing anymore. It could mean business. It could mean secrets. It could mean her.
The rest of the day crawled.
I tried reading. I tried distracting myself. I tried pretending this house didn't feel like a beautiful cage. Every ticking clock felt louder than the last.
By evening, I'd made another decision.
If he wouldn't talk, I would observe.
He came home close to midnight.
I was in the sitting room when the door opened, pretending to read. He paused when he saw me—just for a fraction of a second—but I noticed. I noticed everything now.
"You're awake," he said.
"I live here," I replied calmly.
His gaze lingered, sharp and unreadable. "That doesn't mean you wait up."
"I wasn't."
A lie. But not one he could prove.
Silence stretched.
"You should sleep," he said finally. "Late nights don't suit you."
"And disappearing suits you?" I asked before I could stop myself.
His expression hardened instantly.
"That's not your concern."
There it was again. That wall. Thick. Cold.
"I wasn't accusing you," I said, folding my arms. "I was speaking."
"You were crossing a line."
"And you keep drawing them without asking if I agree."
He stepped closer, towering without effort. "This marriage is a contract, Audrey. Nothing more. Don't confuse proximity with permission."
I met his gaze. Didn't flinch.
"And don't confuse silence with ignorance."
For the first time, something flickered in his eyes. Not guilt. Not fear.
Surprise.
But it passed quickly.
"Go to bed," he said quietly. "Before curiosity costs you something."
He walked away.
I stood there long after he'd gone, heart racing—not from fear, but from clarity.
So this was how it would be.
He thought control was loud. Obvious. Absolute.
But control could be quiet too.
And while Richard Drake was busy managing his empire, his routines, his habits—
I was learning where I fit in the cracks.
Not as his wife.
Not as his enemy.
But as someone watching closely.
And waiting.