The house was quiet when they returned—far quieter than Selena expected. Jace has said a lot during the ride, his knuckles tight on the steering wheel, jaw tense as if he were holding back every emotion clawing inside him.
The moment they stepped into the mansion, he simply muttered a stiff, "Goodnight," and walked away without looking back.
Selena watched his retreating figure disappear toward his wing of the mansion, her heart pounding with a rhythm she hated. She exhaled shakily and forced her feet to move, climbing the stairs to her room.
Once inside, she closed the door gently, leaning against it as if trying to keep her thoughts from escaping.
But her mind refused to settle.
Why did he act like that?
Why did he look at Andrew with that… expression?
Since when does he even look at me like that?
Selena sank onto the edge of her bed, fingers twisting in her dress as flashbacks from the night kept attacking her.
Jace's cold, sharp tone when he approached her and Andrew.
The intensity in his eyes—almost territorial, almost possessive.
The way he grabbed her hand on their way out, his touch firm, burning.
The silence in the car, thick enough to choke her.
And the heat… the kind that filled the space between them without a single word.
"Why am I even thinking about this?" she muttered, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes.
This wasn't part of the deal.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
Her marriage was fake. Temporary. A contract. Nothing more.
She stood up abruptly and walked to the mirror, staring at her reflection—her hair still styled elegantly from the stylist, makeup slightly smudged from the long night. She looked… different. Softer. Vulnerable.
"I can't let this get to me," she whispered to herself. "Jace Ariston is not mine. He will never be mine."
But her chest ached anyway.
She paced the room, arms wrapped around herself as though she needed to physically hold her heart in place.
Three months.
Just three months.
That was all she needed to survive.
After that, everything would end.
Her mother would recover.
The contract would finish.
And she would walk away from Jace and everything that came with him—his world, his silence, his gaze, his unexpected warmth.
So why… why did her heart feel like it was tying itself into tight, painful knots?
She finally collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling as moonlight filtered through the curtains.
"Selena, stop," she whispered. "Don't think about him. Don't feel anything for him. Don't make this harder than it already is."
Her eyes drifted shut, but sleep refused to come.
Every time she tried to clear her mind, a new image of Jace appeared—him loosening his tie when they got home, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he struggled with something he didn't say, the heat in his eyes when he saw her with Andrew.
She rolled over, burying her face in her pillow.
"It's just because of the party," she reasoned weakly. "Because of the atmosphere. Because I was dressed up. That's all."
But deep down, she knew she was lying to herself.
A part of her—dangerous and fragile—kept whispering that Jace's behavior wasn't just irritation… it was something else.
Something she shouldn't name.
Something she shouldn't feel.
She clutched the pillow tighter and forced her eyes shut, willing herself to sleep.
But her heart…
Her heart stayed awake long into the night, fighting a battle she was slowly, inevitably losing.