Chapter 80 – Breaking Point
The silence lasted four days.
Four long, suffocating days of politeness.
Of "good morning" without eye contact.
Of "I'll be late" without explanation.
Of footsteps passing in hallways like strangers sharing a hotel instead of a home.
Amber had always believed she preferred distance.
Distance meant safety.
Distance meant control.
So why did this feel worse than fighting?
At least when they argued, there was heat.
This—
This was cold enough to freeze bone.
—
Friday night arrived with another obligation.
Another performance.
Another reminder that their lives were no longer private.
Wilson Group's annual Investor Appreciation Gala.
Mandatory.
High profile.
Televised.
Perfect.
Amber stood in front of the mirror in her dressing room, adjusting the strap of her dress for the third time.
Black silk.
Backless.
Elegant.
Dangerous.
Armor disguised as beauty.
If she had to play the perfect wife tonight, she would look untouchable doing it.
Camila leaned against the doorway, watching quietly.
"You look like you're about to attend a funeral," she said.
Amber smirked faintly. "Maybe I am."
"Amber."
"What?"
"That man is losing his mind too, you know."
She stilled.
"I'm not talking about him."
"Lie better."
Amber didn't respond.
Because she couldn't.
Camila sighed. "You're both stubborn. It's exhausting to watch."
"Then don't watch."
"I won't," Camila said softly. "But you should decide something soon."
"Decide what?"
"If you're protecting your heart… or just running from it."
Amber grabbed her clutch.
Walked past her.
Didn't answer.
—
The gala hall glittered like gold.
Crystal chandeliers.
Champagne towers.
Politicians.
Investors.
Cameras everywhere.
It smelled like money and manipulation.
Amber hated places like this.
Everyone smiling.
No one honest.
Alex stood near the entrance when she arrived.
Black tux.
Perfect posture.
Unreadable expression.
He looked exactly like what the world believed him to be—
Untouchable.
Powerful.
Cold.
Her chest tightened anyway.
Because she knew better.
Or at least…
She thought she did.
Their eyes met across the room.
A pause.
Then he walked toward her.
Every step measured.
Controlled.
"Ready?" he asked.
Professional.
Neutral.
Like they were heading into a board meeting.
She matched his tone. "Always."
His hand settled lightly at her lower back.
Guiding.
Possessive.
For show.
Only for show.
Yet her body reacted anyway.
Stupid heart.
They stepped into the crowd together.
Cameras flashed instantly.
"Mr. and Mrs. Wilson!"
"Over here!"
"Amber, look this way!"
"Sir, are the rumors true about—"
Alex ignored them smoothly.
Amber lifted her chin, smiling like she owned the world.
They had become very good at pretending.
Too good.
—
Halfway through the night, she finally saw her.
Victoria.
Across the ballroom.
Red dress.
Soft smile.
Standing too close to one of Alex's board members.
Laughing like she belonged there.
Like she had never left.
Amber's grip tightened around her champagne glass.
"Relax," Alex murmured quietly beside her.
"I am relaxed."
"You're about to crush the glass."
She forced her fingers to loosen.
"I'm fine."
"You're not."
She shot him a look. "Don't psychoanalyze me."
"I'm not. I'm observing."
"I didn't ask you to."
Their voices stayed low.
Smiles still perfectly in place.
To anyone watching, they looked intimate.
Close.
Loving.
Inside, sparks were already catching fire.
"Do you want to talk to her?" Amber asked suddenly.
His eyes narrowed. "About what?"
"I don't know. Closure? Nostalgia? Old times?"
"Amber—"
"Maybe you miss her."
He stopped walking.
She took two more steps before realizing.
Turned back.
He wasn't smiling anymore.
"Don't do that," he said quietly.
"Do what?"
"Pretend you don't care while trying to hurt me."
Her breath caught.
"I'm not trying to hurt you."
"Yes, you are."
The honesty hit too clean.
Too sharp.
She looked away first.
Because he was right.
And she hated that he was right.
—
Then it happened.
A reporter.
Too bold.
Too close.
"Mrs. Wilson!" the woman called loudly. "Is it true this marriage was arranged to stabilize company shares?"
The music didn't stop.
But the air shifted.
People nearby slowed.
Listening.
Amber froze.
The reporter continued, relentless.
"Some sources claim this is only a business contract. Care to comment?"
More cameras lifted.
Whispers spread.
Alex's jaw tightened.
"Interview requests go through PR," he said coldly.
But the reporter wasn't backing down.
"So you're saying it's real love?"
Silence.
Too many eyes.
Too many expectations.
Amber felt it then—
That tight, suffocating pressure.
The trap.
Again.
Always a trap.
She was tired.
Tired of pretending.
Tired of smiling.
Tired of acting like her heart wasn't slowly cracking open every time this man looked at her.
"Ask him," she said suddenly.
The reporter blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Ask him," Amber repeated calmly. "He's the one who doesn't believe in love."
Alex's head snapped toward her.
The crowd leaned closer.
She didn't stop.
Didn't know how to stop.
"Maybe this is just business," she continued, voice sharper now. "Maybe we're just good actors. Isn't that what everyone thinks?"
"Amber," Alex warned softly.
But it was too late.
Weeks of jealousy.
Fear.
Silence.
Misunderstanding.
All of it burst at once.
"So what do you want me to say?" she asked him directly, right there, in front of everyone. "That we're happy? That we're perfect? That you didn't almost marry someone else?"
Gasps.
Cameras flashing wildly.
The reporter looked thrilled.
Alex's voice dropped dangerously low. "Not here."
"Why not?" she shot back. "We perform everywhere else."
"Enough."
"Or what? You'll shut me down like a board meeting too?"
Her chest rose and fell fast now.
She hadn't meant to say all this.
But once the truth started spilling—
It wouldn't stop.
"Do you even know what you want, Alex?" she demanded. "Because I'm tired of guessing!"
The ballroom went dead quiet.
For one terrifying second—
She thought he'd walk away.
Thought he'd choose control over her.
Again.
Instead—
He grabbed her wrist.
Not rough.
Firm.
Steady.
And pulled her out of the crowd.
Straight past the cameras.
Past the noise.
Through the side doors.
Into the empty corridor.
The door slammed shut behind them.
Silence.
Heavy.
Breathing.
Fast.
Angry.
Hurt.
"You don't get to explode like that in public," he said.
"You don't get to keep shutting me out!"
"I was protecting you!"
"From what?! Your feelings?!"
"Yes!"
The word echoed.
They both froze.
He stared at her.
Chest rising.
Control finally gone.
"For once," he said hoarsely, "this isn't about business. It's not about the board. It's not about the company."
"Then what is it about?"
His eyes locked onto hers.
Raw.
Unmasked.
Terrifyingly honest.
"You."
Her heart stuttered.
"I don't know how to do this," he admitted quietly. "I don't know how to care about someone without losing everything."
She swallowed.
"Then stop pretending you don't care."
Their faces were too close now.
Breaths mixing.
Anger dissolving into something hotter.
More dangerous.
Something neither of them could control anymore.
"If we keep going like this," she whispered, "we're going to break."
His hand tightened around hers.
"Then break with me."
And for the first time—
She didn't pull away.