No one dared to disturb the taut silence between Nerissa and George. The city lights streaked past the tinted windows, their reflections dancing across the stillness inside the car. Her eyes wandered outside until something caught her attention—El Ecuador Empire.
Her breath hitched. It stood tall and proud, directly across from the condominium owned by Drake's family.
Now that explains it, she thought bitterly.
The tires let out a soft stretch of rubber against asphalt as George brought his most expensive work car to a halt. Without a word, he stepped out, walked around, and opened her door. His grip closed around her wrist—firm, unyielding. He didn't yank, but the silent insistence in his touch left no room for refusal.
They passed the uniformed guard without a glance, heading straight to the elevator. The ride to the fifth floor was heavy with unspoken words. When the doors slid open, they stepped into a world of polished elegance—a fine dining restaurant, its soft golden lighting and faint music doing nothing to warm the frost between them.
Nerissa crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing.
"So," she demanded, her voice slicing through the air, "what's that all about?"
"I don't want you ever seeing that man again. No ifs, no buts." His tone was cool, detached, as though speaking of a minor inconvenience rather than her life. "Don't make me a public laughingstock."
Her lips curved into a humorless smile. "If you're worried about your reputation, may I remind you that no one—aside from my family and a few close friends—knows I'm married to you?"
"Close friends?" His brow arched, the words dripping with disdain. "Is that what you're calling Atty. Gonzaga?"
Her eyes blazed. "He's not just Atty. Gonzaga. He's been with me since law school—through my ups, my downs, my failures, and my victories. That man is family to me!" Her voice rose, sharp enough for nearby diners to glance their way.
The waiter arrived, breaking the moment, and George gave a single command.
"Eat."
Nerissa wanted to snap at him, to tell him she wasn't a soldier to be ordered around. But the hunger gnawed at her stomach, battling with the frustration swirling inside her. She exhaled slowly and picked up her spoon.
They ate in uneasy silence until George finally spoke again, his tone clipped.
"If you were just hungry, you could've told me. Or eaten at home."
Her eyes flickered with disbelief. "I'm not looking for free food, George. I was meeting a friend. I wasn't doing anything wrong."
"Then at least tell me where you're going, and with whom," he countered, his voice low but sharp. "Don't let me think you're meeting someone behind my back."
She set her spoon down, meeting his gaze with quiet fury. "Why? I'm not allowed to see my friends, but you're allowed to call your girlfriend?" The venom in her words made him stiffen.
His expression darkened, frustration tightening his jaw. "You know why, Nerissa. I made a promise to my mother to marry you. This happened suddenly. I… I didn't even have the slightest idea we'd end up like this. Isabelle is my girlfriend, yes—but she's in California. She's not even here, for Christ's sake!"
Nerissa let out a short, bitter laugh.
"Oh, so that makes it okay?" Her voice was trembling—not from fear, but from the effort of keeping herself from shouting in the middle of the restaurant. "You have a girlfriend across the ocean, so it's fine for you to keep her, but God forbid I have a friend here! I just wanted to see my friend!"
George's gaze sharpened. "It's not the same."
"Not the same?" She leaned forward, her words a low, dangerous whisper. "The difference is, mine is here for me when I need someone. Yours is a name you whisper when you think I'm not listening."
His jaw tightened, the muscle twitching. "You think I want this? You think I wanted to marry someone I barely knew, just because my mother wanted it?"
Her chest ached, but she kept her chin high. "Then why didn't you fight for her? Why didn't you fight for Isabelle if she's the one you really wanted?"
"Because," he said, his voice dropping into something rawer, "my mother was dying. And her last wish was that I marry you. I couldn't say no to her. Not when she raised me alone. Not when she was… all I had left."
Something in his tone made her falter for a moment. But then she saw the cold wall in his eyes—the same wall that had been there since the day they married—and her sympathy froze over.
"So I'm just your obligation."
"You're my wife," he corrected sharply, as if that word alone should be enough.
Nerissa's heart twisted. "A wife you don't love. A wife who has to ask permission to breathe while you still keep your heart somewhere else."
His hand curled into a fist on the table. "Don't twist my words."
She didn't flinch. "I don't have to. You've made them perfectly clear."
The tension between them thickened until the air felt heavy, suffocating. Around them, glasses clinked, forks scraped plates, and conversations carried on—but in their corner, it was a battlefield.
Finally, George exhaled, pushing his chair back slightly. "We'll finish this at home."
Nerissa gave a slow, humorless smile. "No, George. We'll finish this now. Because I'm done walking behind you like some shadow you wish would disappear."
His eyes locked onto hers, and for the first time all evening, his mask slipped—just for a heartbeat—revealing something dangerous. Something he didn't want her to see.
And in that moment, Nerissa realized… she wasn't the only one losing control.
The ride down in the elevator was silent. Not the kind of silence that's peaceful, but the kind that hums with unsaid words, heavy enough to choke.
George's hand stayed firmly at the small of her back as they walked through the lobby, not in a gesture of affection but in a quiet warning. The moment they stepped into the night air, the city's glow painted everything in muted gold, but for Nerissa, it all felt gray.
He opened the car door for her again—habit, control, or courtesy, she couldn't tell. She slid inside without a word. Moments later, the engine purred to life, and the city began to blur past the windows.
She kept her eyes fixed outside, watching streetlights flash in cold rhythm. George's grip on the steering wheel was rigid, his jaw set so tightly she could see the tension running along the line of his cheek.
Finally, he spoke, his voice low and measured.
"You humiliated me tonight."
Her gaze snapped to him. "Humiliated you? For defending myself? For having a friend you don't approve of?"
"For raising your voice at me in public," he said, his eyes fixed on the road. "For making people wonder what kind of man I am that my wife challenges me in front of strangers."
Her laugh was sharp and humorless. "Newsflash, George—you don't need me to make people wonder. They'd start asking the moment they realized your marriage is nothing but a business arrangement."
His hands tightened on the wheel. "Don't push me, Nerissa."
"I'm not pushing you. I'm telling you." She turned in her seat, facing him fully now. "I'm done being the polite, silent wife you can keep on a shelf while you call your girlfriend overseas like you're a free man."
His foot pressed heavier on the accelerator. The hum of the engine deepened, and the city outside began to streak faster. "Careful," he warned. "You don't know what you're playing with."
Her pulse kicked up, but she didn't look away. "Neither do you."
For a moment, the only sound was the hiss of tires against asphalt and the muted roar of the engine. Then his voice came again, quieter this time, almost reluctant.
"You think I don't see you? You think I don't notice the way you look at me—like I'm the villain in your story?" His tone was tight, laced with something unreadable. "But I'm not. I'm just the man who got trapped in a life he didn't choose."
Nerissa's throat tightened. "If that was your thinking, then let us have a divorce tomorrow."
He didn't answer. His grip stayed like stone on the wheel, his gaze locked forward as though letting it drift for even a second would unravel him.
They drove the rest of the way in silence, but it was no longer the silence of before. This one was heavier—because now, the truth was out in the open. Their unsaid feelings are already free.