The Crystal Ballroom gleamed under thousands of suspended lights that cast the room in soft gold. Sophia adjusted her red gown one more time in the mirror of the penthouse bathroom, wondering when she started caring this much about how she looked for Ethan. The dress was stunning, a custom Valentino that hugged her curves and made her feel powerful. Power was what she understood. Power was what kept her safe.
Three weeks of living in the penthouse had created a rhythm neither of them discussed but both followed religiously. Morning coffee in separate kitchens. Work in separate offices. Late-night conversations in the kitchen that felt increasingly dangerous. Those conversations were the reason she'd chosen the red dress. She wanted him to notice her tonight. That thought alone terrified her.
The charity gala was for the Children's Hospital fundraiser, an event neither of them could avoid. Ethan appeared in the doorway wearing a custom black tuxedo that made her breath catch. He looked like he always did at these events: polished, controlled, untouchable. Except his eyes gave him away. They tracked her movements like she was the only thing worth seeing.
"You look beautiful," he said simply.
"Thank you. You clean up okay yourself," she replied, deflecting from the intensity in his gaze.
The ride to the venue was silent but not uncomfortable. They sat in the backseat of the town car, not quite touching but aware of every millimeter between them. Sophia focused on her phone, scrolling through emails she didn't actually read. Ethan looked out the window at the New York skyline, his jaw clenched in a way that suggested he was also struggling with the proximity.
The ballroom was packed with Manhattan's elite. Sophia recognized at least a hundred people from business circles, charity boards, and social events. News of their marriage had created a narrative that preceded them: rivals forced together by fate. It was the story everyone wanted to believe because it was romantic and unexpected.
They separated at the entrance, each circulating through the crowd as expected. Sophia found herself in conversations about market trends and expansion strategies, her mind elsewhere entirely. She kept track of Ethan's location in the room the way a satellite tracks its target. This awareness bothered her because it showed a level of investment she wasn't supposed to feel.
Around nine o'clock, she noticed Ethan talking to a woman in a silver dress. The woman was striking, with dark hair and the kind of confidence that came from genuine beauty. More concerning was the way she touched Ethan's arm while laughing at something he'd said. The jealousy that bloomed in Sophia's chest was sharp and unexpected and absolutely unacceptable.
She turned away, focusing on her conversation with a venture capitalist about tech startups. But she wasn't listening. She was waiting for what would happen next, holding her breath without realizing it.
The woman in silver appeared at her elbow with champagne and a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Sophia Chen, isn't it? I'm Victoria Ashford. Ethan and I went to Yale together." The way she said "together" suggested they'd been together in ways beyond academia.
"Nice to meet you," Sophia said, her voice perfectly polished even as her instincts went on high alert.
"Ethan mentioned you've been competing for seven years before getting married. How very romantic. Though I have to say, I've never seen him actually interested in his competition before. Usually, he just dominates and moves on." Victoria took a sip of champagne. "I'm curious what makes you different. Is it the challenge, or did he finally get bored of winning?"
The comment was designed to sting, and Sophia had to admire the precision of it. Victoria was testing her, trying to determine if Sophia understood that Ethan might be bored now that they were married. That the novelty might wear off. That Sophia might be just another acquisition.
"I think," Sophia said carefully, "that Ethan is smart enough to know the difference between competition and connection. And interesting enough to want both." She paused, meeting Victoria's eyes directly. "Also, I should mention that while we're discussing him like he's not here, he's actually walking toward us right now, and he looks absolutely furious."
Victoria's face paled slightly. She turned to leave, but Ethan reached them first. His hand found Sophia's waist, not gently. Not like a husband claiming his wife, but like a man staking a claim on something precious that someone was trying to take.
"Victoria," he said, his voice colder than Sophia had ever heard it. "Still trying to rewrite history? You cheated on me senior year. That was ten years ago. I'd suggest you move on."
Victoria left without another word. The interaction lasted maybe three minutes, but in those minutes, Sophia saw something shift in Ethan. The controlled businessman vanished, replaced by someone possessive and protective. She should have been offended. Instead, she was impressed.
"Thank you for that," she said.
"She was making you uncomfortable." He didn't ask if she was uncomfortable. He'd known.
"I can handle myself."
"I know you can. That's not why I did it." He was still holding her waist, his hand warm through the fabric of her dress. "I don't like seeing you look at anyone else the way you were looking at her."
The words hung between them, dangerous and honest. They were standing in the middle of a crowded ballroom, surrounded by hundreds of people, and Sophia felt like they were the only two people in the room. She should step away. She should make a joke and deflect. She should protect herself by maintaining distance.
Instead, she leaned closer. "Is that so?"
"You wore that dress to make me notice you," he said, not a question.
"Maybe I wore it to make me feel powerful."
"You did both." He stepped back, creating space between them, but his eyes never left hers. "Dance with me."
The dance floor was on the far side of the ballroom, already crowded with couples moving to a live orchestra's rendition of a modern jazz standard. Ethan led her there with his hand on her lower back, and when they reached the floor, he pulled her close with the confidence of someone who didn't doubt she would follow.
Dancing with him was like entering a different reality. His hand on her waist, her hand on his shoulder, their other hands clasped between them. He was a good dancer, leading with authority but listening to her body, adjusting when she needed him to.
"How long have you known?" she asked.
"Known what?"
"That we were going to marry. You knew before I did, didn't you?"
He was quiet for a moment, his hand tightening slightly on her waist. "For a few years."
"How many years?"
"Since we met."
The song continued, but the moment froze. Ethan had known since they met at university. Since they'd first competed against each other in business school. Since before she had any idea. And he'd continued to compete with her anyway, knowing this was coming.
"You should be angry," he said quietly.
"I am angry." She was also something else, something she didn't have a name for. Something that felt like betrayal and attraction tangled together.
"I never used it against you. I never let it influence the competition between us. I competed fairly, and I won because I was better at specific things, not because I had information you didn't."
"But you could have told me."
"You needed to make your own choices. You needed to build your life without knowing this was coming. If you'd known, you would have fought it. You would have refused the marriage, gone to court, made it messy. You deserved to not know and to be free."
The song ended. Neither of them moved immediately. When they finally stepped apart, Sophia felt untethered, like she'd been floating and someone had suddenly let go.
They left the gala early, claiming fatigue. The car ride back to the penthouse was silent but charged, like the air before a thunderstorm. Sophia's mind was racing with questions she didn't know how to ask. How long had he been watching her? At what point did competition become obsession? And most importantly, what did any of this mean?
Back at the penthouse, Ethan headed toward his bedroom, but Sophia followed him, her red dress trailing behind her like a warning flag.
"Wait," she called. He stopped, turning to face her in the hallway outside his room. Before she could talk herself out of it, she moved toward him, pulled his face down, and kissed him like her life depended on it.
The kiss was urgent and desperate and everything the ones at their wedding had been pretending to be. His hands came up to cup her face, and then he was pressing her against the wall, his body aligned with hers.
When he finally pulled back, both of them were breathing hard.
"We said no getting physical," she reminded him, though she made no move to step away.
"You kissed me."
"You let me know you were going to."
"I was going to." He ran his thumb across her lower lip. "I've been wanting to for weeks."
He kissed her again, and Sophia forgot about the revelation about how long he'd known. She forgot about Victoria and the gala and everything except the feeling of him against her. But in the back of her mind, a small voice was already calculating. If he'd known this whole time, what else did he know? What else was he hiding?
When they finally made it to his bedroom, Sophia lay beside him afterward and whispered the question that was going to change everything.
"What else haven't you told me about, Ethan?"
His answer, when it came, was quiet and devastating: "My company didn't just decide to bid on Techvision randomly. I've been tracking your interest in that company for two years. I know where you're going to move next in your expansion plans. I know because I've studied you the way you study markets. And I bid on Techvision specifically because you wanted it."