Selena noticed it the moment she stepped into the company lobby.
Jace slowed his stride.
Usually, he walked a step ahead of her—always controlled, always distant. Today, he stopped when she stopped, matching her pace without a word.
When the elevator arrived, he placed his hand gently on the small of her back, guiding her inside ahead of him.
Selena froze.
It wasn't forceful. It wasn't showy.
It was… intimate.
Her heart skipped, confusion washing over her face, but she said nothing as the elevator doors slid shut. Inside, a few employees stood quietly, their eyes flickering between them.
Jace pressed the floor button and stood beside her—close enough that his sleeve brushed hers.
Too close.
Selena's fingers curled slightly.
What is he doing?
On the office floor, as they walked past curious gazes, Jace didn't pull away. If anything, he made it obvious that she was with him—his wife—though no words were spoken.
Inside his office, the door closed behind them.
Selena finally turned to him. "Jace…"
He met her eyes calmly. "Did I make you uncomfortable?"
She hesitated. "No. I just… wasn't expecting it."
"I know," he said simply. "Get used to it."
Her brows knit together. "Why now?"
Jace didn't answer directly. "You don't have to do anything. Just… let me."
That alone made her chest tighten.
Throughout the day, it continued—in quiet, unmistakable ways.
He brought her coffee himself instead of asking Clara.
When someone knocked, he'd glance at Selena first before responding.
At lunch, he didn't eat separately. He stayed with her. Just the two of them.
No touching. No excess.
But presence.
And that somehow unraveled Selena far more than any grand gesture ever could.
What are you doing to us? she wondered.
Across town, Melissa smiled as she stared at her phone.
"Post it," she said calmly.
The hired accounts moved quickly.
Headlines. Speculation. Anonymous whispers.
CEO Jace Ariston once paid hospital bills for a "struggling girl."
Insiders say kindness was mistaken for love.
Sources claim the marriage was born out of pity, not passion.
When help looks like romance… but isn't.
Photos appeared too—old ones. Carefully cropped. Taken out of context.
Not naming Selena directly.
But naming Jace.
The internet did the rest.
Selena found out by accident.
Her phone buzzed while she was printing documents. A message from Andrew.
Andrew:
Hey. Are you okay?
She frowned.
Selena:
Yes… why?
There was a pause before her phone rang.
She stepped into the corridor and answered. "Andrew?"
"I won't keep you long," he said gently. "I just… I saw something online."
Her stomach dropped. "What thing?"
"The posts," he continued carefully. "About Jace. And you."
Silence thundered in her ears.
"I didn't want to jump to conclusions," Andrew added quickly. "That's why I called. I just wanted to check on you."
Selena swallowed. "I haven't seen anything."
"Okay," he said. "Then don't go looking. Just—if you need to talk, I'm here."
She closed her eyes. "Thank you. And… sorry I've been quiet."
"I know life happens," Andrew said softly. "Take care of yourself, Selena."
The call ended.
Slowly, she opened Instagram.
And her world tilted.
She didn't cry.
She didn't react.
She just stared—face calm, fingers cold, chest aching.
So this was how it looked.
Pity.
Help mistaken for love.
She locked her phone and returned to her seat like nothing happened.
Jace noticed immediately.
Not because she behaved differently—but because she became too calm.
That night, he drove them home in silence.
Inside the house, Selena went straight to her room, changed, and came out again—not to hide, but to sit quietly on the sofa.
Jace brought two glasses of water and placed one beside her.
They sat.
Minutes passed.
Then minutes more.
Finally, Selena spoke.
"Jace."
"Yes?"
"If one day… this ends," she asked quietly, "will you regret helping me?"
His head snapped toward her.
"No."
"What if people twist it into something ugly?"
"I don't care."
She looked at him then—really looked.
"And what if I do?"
The question broke something open.
Jace leaned forward, forearms on his knees. "Then tell me. Don't carry it alone."
Her lips trembled slightly, but she steadied herself.
"I'm not asking you to fight the world for me," she said. "I just… need to know I'm not imagining this."
"You're not," he said instantly.
Selena hugged her knees lightly, a small, vulnerable gesture. "I don't know when I started hoping," she admitted. "But I think I did."
The words were barely audible.
Jace didn't touch her.
He stayed exactly where he was—giving her space, but also staying.
"That's okay," he said softly. "We'll go at your pace."
Her eyes burned—not with tears, but with something warmer.
Trust.
Slowly, invisibly, her walls cracked.
Upstairs, alone later that night, Selena finally picked up her phone again—not to read the posts, but to mute the noise.
Downstairs, Jace stared at the darkened screen of his own phone.
The lines had been drawn.
Someone had crossed them.
And this time, he wouldn't stay silent.