Chapter 4 - The House in the Hills
The black Maybach pulled up the winding driveway of a massive modern estate built into the side of the cliff overlooking the city lights.
The house was breathtaking—a masterpiece of black steel, floor-to-ceiling glass, and warm wood accents, surrounded by tall pine trees and high security walls.
"Welcome to the Ward estate," Noah said as the driver opened my door.
I gathered the skirts of my wedding dress and stepped out into the crisp night air. The fatigue of the day was finally catching up to me, settling deep into my bones, making my legs feel heavy as lead.
Noah noticed. Without asking for permission, he stepped closer, reached down, and lifted me smoothly into his arms, carrying me up the wide stone steps toward the front entrance.
"Noah! Put me down, I can walk," I gasped, my hands instinctively wrapping around his neck for balance.
"You've been standing in three-inch heels for nine hours, Claire," Noah said smoothly, using his thumb to scan the biometrics at the front door. "Consider this a clause in our temporary marriage contract: basic physical consideration."
The massive glass door swung open automatically, revealing a stunning, open-concept interior featuring a floating staircase, a fireplace roaring in a stone wall, and panoramic views of the city below.
Noah carried me inside, setting me down gently on the plush velvet sofa near the fireplace. He walked over to a wet bar, poured two fingers of amber whiskey into a crystal glass, and handed it to me.
"Drink," he commanded softly. "It helps with the shock."
I took the glass and downed it in one smooth swallow. The heat burned down my throat, forcing a sharp breath from my lungs, but it instantly began to thaw the icy numbness sitting in my chest.
Noah unbuttoned his jacket, tossed it over a chair, and unknotted his silk tie, tossing it beside the jacket. He sat down on the opposite end of the sofa, leaning his head back against the cushions.
For ten minutes, neither of us said a word. The only sound in the vast house was the crackle of the wood fire and the distant city traffic below.
"Thank you," I said softly, breaking the silence.
Noah turned his head to look at me. "For what?"
"For not making me feel small today," I said, staring into the flames. "When Ethan walked away, I felt like a ghost. Like four years of my life had been erased by a phone call. Standing at that altar with you... it gave me my feet back."
Noah studied me quietly. "Ethan Mercer is a fool, Claire. A weak man who takes the path of least resistance because he lacks the character to face hard truths."
"And you?" I asked, looking over at him. "What kind of man are you, Noah?"
Noah leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his dark eyes locked onto mine.
"I am a man who honors his agreements," Noah said, his voice deep and serious. "I won't lie to you. I won't cheat on you. I won't make decisions behind your back that affect your life. In exchange, I expect total loyalty and absolute honesty."
"I can give you that," I said quietly. "It's what I offered Ethan, but he didn't know what to do with it."
"His loss," Noah said bluntly. "My gain."
The phrase hung in the warm air between us, charged with a subtle, unexpected electricity.
Before I could process the feeling, my phone began ringing loudly from my handbag on the floor. I pulled it out and looked at the caller ID.
Ethan.
I looked at Noah. He gave me a single, quiet nod.
I swiped the screen and placed the phone on speaker, setting it on the coffee table between us.
"Claire!" Ethan’s frantic, desperate voice filled the living room. "Claire, oh my God, thank God you picked up! Where are you? What is the internet talking about? Is it true?"
I leaned back against the sofa cushions, my voice as cold and clear as ice.
"Is what true, Ethan?"
"They're saying you married Noah Ward!" Ethan shouted, background hospital noises still audible behind him. "They're saying you walked into the St. Regis and married him four hours ago! Tell me it's a lie, Claire! Tell me you're just trying to get back at me!"
I looked across the table at Noah, who was watching the phone with a look of pure, clinical amusement.
"It's not a lie, Ethan," I said calmly. "I am currently sitting in Noah Ward's living room. As his wife."
Silence dead-ended on the line.
"No..." Ethan choked out, his voice cracking with sudden, overwhelming panic. "No, Claire, you can't be! You love me! We were supposed to get married today! I was coming back to you after Sophie was stable!"
"You chose your path at eleven o'clock this morning, Ethan," I said, every word delivered with surgical precision. "You chose Olivia. You chose her daughter. You made your choice three weeks ago when you started sleeping in her bed while planning my wedding."
"Claire, please! Let me explain—"
"Do not call this number again, Ethan," I interrupted coldly. "My husband's legal counsel will be contacting you at nine o'clock tomorrow morning regarding your debt to my father's firm and the immediate division of our shared lease."
"Claire! Wait! Don't do this!" Ethan screamed.
I hit the red button, ending the call, and tossed the phone onto the cushion beside me.
I looked up at Noah. He was watching me with a look of intense, quiet admiration.
May you like
"Very impressive, Mrs. Ward," Noah said softly.
"Now," I said, standing up and unfastening the pearl buttons down the back of my wedding dress, "where is my bedroom? I have a long day of destruction to plan tomorrow."
