CHAPTER THREE
The next morning, coffee was on the counter.
And beside it, a small box.
Lira stared at it. She did not touch it. She waited, as if it might disappear.
It did not disappear.
She opened it. Inside was a sketchbook. Leather bound. Thick paper. The kind architects used. The kind she could never afford.
A note tucked inside.
Elena said you draw. You should have something to draw on. - K
She held the sketchbook to her chest. She did not know why her eyes were wet.
---
He was gone before she woke. Always gone. She had stopped asking when he left.
She sat at the kitchen counter with her coffee and her new sketchbook. She opened it to the first page. She drew.
The view from the penthouse window. The city spread out like a promise. She had not drawn in months. Years. There was never time. Never energy. Never paper good enough to bother.
She drew for two hours. The city. The buildings. The tiny figures on the streets below.
When she finished, she looked at what she had made. It was good. Really good.
She had forgotten she could do this.
---
That afternoon, she visited her father.
Antonio was out of bed. Walking slowly with a cane. The nurses cheered when he made it to the window and back.
He saw the sketchbook under her arm. He asked what it was.
She showed him. The city. The buildings. The details only she would notice.
He studied each page. Slowly. Carefully.
"Your mother drew," he said. "Did you know that?"
She did not know that.
"She stopped when you were born. Said she only had room for one masterpiece." He smiled. "You."
Lira could not speak.
"She would be proud of you," he said. "Not just the drawings. Everything. The woman you became."
She kissed his forehead. She stayed until visiting hours ended.
---
That night, she cooked again.
Different recipe. Something she learned from YouTube because her mother never made it. She wanted to surprise him. Show him she was more than rice and beans.
He came home at 9pm. Earlier than usual.
He saw her at the stove. He saw the sketchbook on the counter, open to a new page.
"You drew," he said.
"Your gift. I had to use it."
He picked up the sketchbook. He looked at each page. Slowly. Carefully. The way her father had.
"These are good," he said.
"I know."
His mouth twitched again. That almost-smile.
They ate together. At the table. Both of them. First time.
"This is different," he said.
"New recipe. My mother never made it."
"It's good."
"I know."
He almost smiled again. She counted it as a win.
---
After dinner, he washed the dishes. She dried. They moved around each other in the small kitchen like people who had done this before. Like people who belonged together.
"I have a meeting tomorrow," he said. "Investors. They want to meet you."
She stopped drying. "Meet me?"
"The marriage. It helps if they see us together. If they believe it's real."
She nodded. "What should I wear?"
"Elena will help. She knows these things."
Silence. Then: "I am not good at this," he said. "Pretending. Performing. It exhausts me."
"Then don't pretend."
He looked at her.
"Just be you," she said. "I'll be me. If they don't believe it, they don't believe it."
"That is not how business works."
"Maybe business needs to work differently."
He stared at her for a long moment. Then he nodded. Slow. Thoughtful.
"Okay," he said. "We'll try it your way."
---
The investors meeting was in a conference room on the 80th floor.
Lira wore a dress Elena selected. Simple. Professional. Not too fancy. Not too plain. Her hair was down. Her face was bare of makeup because she forgot to buy any.
Kael waited by the elevator. He looked at her. Head to toe.
"You look..." He stopped.
"What?"
"Like you."
She smiled. "That's the goal."
The investors were four men in expensive suits. They shook hands. They made small talk. They watched Lira the way people watch someone they are judging.
Kael presented his numbers. His plans. His vision. He was cold. Precise. Untouchable.
Then one of the investors turned to Lira.
"And you, Mrs. Vance? What do you think of your husband's plans?"
She could have said anything. She could have performed. She could have pretended to be the doting wife.
Instead, she told the truth.
"I think he's brilliant," she said. "I also think he's lonely. I think he's been alone so long he forgot what it feels like to have someone in his corner. I'm here to remind him."
Silence.
The investors looked at each other.
Kael stared at her like she had just rewritten gravity.
The lead investor leaned forward. "Mrs. Vance, are you always this honest?"
"Always. It saves time."
He laughed. A real laugh. The other investors followed.
"I like her," the lead investor said to Kael. "Keep her."
Kael nodded. "I intend to."
---
After the meeting, in the elevator, Kael was quiet.
She thought she had ruined it. Said too much. Been too honest.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have—"
"No."
She looked at him.
"That was the best meeting I've ever had," he said. "They liked you. They believed you."
"I wasn't pretending."
"I know. That's why they believed you."
The elevator doors opened. He did not move.
"No one has ever said anything like that about me," he said. "In my corner. Not since my grandfather died."
She took his hand. Just for a moment.
"Get used to it," she said. "I'm not going anywhere."
---
That night, she could not sleep again.
She went to the kitchen. He was there. Sitting in the dark.
They sat together without speaking. Shoulders almost touching.
"Tell me about your grandfather," she said.
He told her. About the old man who built an empire. Who took him to work on Saturdays. Who taught him that numbers told stories if you knew how to listen.
"He died when I was sixteen," Kael said. "After that, it was just my father. And the bottle."
She did not say she was sorry. She just sat closer.
"When did you know you wanted to draw?" he asked.
"Always. My mother gave me crayons when I was three. I never stopped."
"Why did you stop?"
She was quiet for a moment. "No time. No money for good paper. No room in my life
for things that were just for me."
He nodded. Like he understood.
"Don't stop again," he said. "Not while you're here. There's paper. There's time."
She looked at him in the dark.
"Okay," she said. "I won't."