Chapter 7

When they got home, Alison slipped into her indoor slippers at the entryway and walked straight to the guest room. She took off the pearl necklace and bracelet and put them back into the box. Just as she was about to take a shower, she heard footsteps behind her.

Erik stood in the doorway, his gaze sweeping over the room.

Alison's skincare bottles lined the vanity, a few books rested on the nightstand, and the closet was filled with the clothes she usually wore.

He didn't know when it had happened, but she'd already moved her things out of the master bedroom and into this one.

He frowned. "Why did you move into the guest room?"

Alison was hanging up the gown she had just changed out of. She didn't even look at him as she said, "The hospital sometimes calls in the middle of the night, and I have to get up early to cook and bring food over. I don't want to disturb your sleep."

In reality, Erik barely spent the night at home anymore. There was nothing for her to disturb in a place he might step into only a few times a month.

Erik said nothing. He suddenly realized he hadn't really looked at her in a while. She'd gotten thinner.

He walked up to her and gently cupped her face. Her skin was warm and soft against his palm. He looked down at her, saying, "Hire a caregiver. I'll cover all the costs."

Alison turned her head slightly, avoiding his hand without making it obvious. Her eyes fell on the set of pearl jewelry on the nightstand.

"What about that set?" she asked, changing the subject. "We don't have a safe for jewelry at home."

Fine jewelry needed to be kept in a professional climate-controlled safe, especially pearls.

"Why don't we send it to Hale Manor? There's a jewelry cabinet there," she said.

The thought of what had happened that evening—how Anita had tried to get Alison to sign a loan agreement—brought a quiet, icy anger to life in Erik's chest.

"Not there," he said coldly. "I'll take it to the office tomorrow and put it in the vault there."

The company had a high-security safe for valuable jewelry. No matter who had originally gifted this set of pearls, once it was in his hands, it was his.

He forgot to press Alison about moving into the guest room. By the time it crossed his mind again, she was already in the shower.

The sound of water drifted from the bathroom, a fine, steady patter muffled by the door.

Erik stood there for a moment, then turned and went back to the master bedroom to grab clean clothes and take a shower himself.

Warm water streamed over his body. He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of the body wash. It was one that Alison had picked out—he liked the scent.

They had been married two years, and he had never once held her. He hated the way she had schemed to marry him, so he'd deliberately kept her at arm's length. And after Monique's return from abroad, there was even less chance of him ever touching Alison, who was only his wife on paper.

Maybe it was because he hadn't come back to this apartment in a while, but the familiar smell in the air felt a little homey.

Erik shut off the water, dried himself, and pulled on a bathrobe before walking back out. The master bed was empty; the quilt was folded neatly, and the pillows were arranged with precision.

Alison was nowhere to be seen.

He stepped out of the master bedroom, walked down the hallway, and stopped at the guest room door. He twisted the doorknob, but the door was locked.

Erik frowned and rested his fingers on the knob for a second. Just as he was about to knock, his phone rang. It was his private phone, and the screen lit up with an incoming call from Monique.

He glanced once at the guest room door, then turned and went back to the master bedroom.

"Erik, you're still up, right?" Monique's voice came through the receiver, soft and lilting with a trace of a smile.

"Yeah."

"Owen is here. Everyone insisted that I call you."

Owen Bridge was their high school classmate. Back in high school, Erik had been the class president, Owen the vice president, and Monique the class rep. The three of them had been known as "the three musketeers".

Owen came from a good family but hadn't rushed to take over the family business. As soon as he graduated from college, he'd become a civil servant. Now, he was the youngest deputy director in the city's Department of Commerce.

"We've asked the almighty Mr. Bridge out so many times, and he always says he's too busy. It's rare that he has time to come out tonight." Monique laughed. "Erik, are you coming?"

If it had been anyone else, Erik would have turned them down without hesitation. But with Owen… it really had been a while since they'd last met.

"I'll head over now."

He hung up, changed into a comfortable polo shirt and pants, and checked his reflection in the mirror. After making sure he looked presentable, he grabbed his car keys and headed out.

As he passed the guest room, he saw that the lights were already off. There was no line of light under the door. Alison was probably already asleep.

He stood there for a few seconds, then walked away. On his way out, he took the set of pearl jewelry with him.

Alison lay on her side in bed, still wide awake. She'd heard Erik answer the phone and then leave. It had to have been Monique asking him out.

Good.

She closed her eyes, completely exhausted.

…

When Erik walked into the private room at the bar, he saw Owen sitting in the center seat.

Owen wore a white shirt and gold-rimmed glasses. His face was gentle and refined, and he spoke in a mild tone. There wasn't the slightest trace of bureaucratic arrogance about him.

"Look what the wind blew in—our deputy director, Mr. Owen Bridge himself," Erik joked as he sat down on Owen's right.

Owen adjusted his glasses. "Monique called me personally. How could I not show up?"

Erik chuckled, then swept a gaze over the bottles on the table. He turned to Timothy and said, "Put away all the expensive liquor. No one is allowed to take pictures or post anything on social media tonight."

Given Owen's position, he had to be careful about how he interacted with businesspeople.

The hard liquor was cleared away and replaced with light, non-alcoholic drinks. Erik and Owen started talking—Hale Corporation had a few projects about to break ground, and Erik wanted to hear Owen's thoughts. The two of them leaned in close, speaking in low voices, fully focused on their conversation.

Meanwhile, no one noticed when Timothy quietly opened the paper bag Erik had brought with him. Inside, the pearl jewelry set caught the dim light, giving off a soft, lustrous glow.

Monique's gaze landed on the jewelry and lingered for a moment. It had caught her eye the moment she'd seen it in the catalog at the auction. The starting bid had been 3.8 million dollars, but she'd assumed Erik would bid on it for her. In the past, he would've given her anything she wanted.

Timothy scooted closer to her and lowered his voice. "That woman won't ever be a queen, even if she puts on a tiara. Look—Erik brought the pearls out with him tonight. He clearly doesn't think they suit her, either."

Monique pressed her lips together, her fingers tightening around her glass. She didn't say a word.

Emboldened, Timothy called out to Erik, "Erik, why did you bring the pearls out so soon? Your wife actually let you walk off with it?"

Erik had just gotten to a critical part in his discussion with Owen when he was interrupted. His brows creased in annoyance.

He looked up and said flatly, "She doesn't like that sort of thing."

Timothy snorted mockingly. "What woman doesn't love jewelry? She's just faking it."

Erik's expression darkened. He was already irritated by Timothy going through his things without permission. That last comment grated on him even more.

"Alison is my wife," he said, his tone turning cold as he enunciated each word. "If she wants something, all she has to do is say the word. A jewelry set worth a few million dollars is nothing."

Monique's lashes trembled. She hadn't expected him to speak up for Alison like this.

Timothy bristled. "If she doesn't like it, then why'd you buy it for her? Mon was the one who saw it first."

Monique tugged lightly on his sleeve. "Just drop it."

He knew he'd made things awkward and picked up his glass with a forced chuckle. "My bad. I'll give myself a penalty drink."

He drained his glass in one go, then got to his feet and muttered, "I'm going to pee."

With that, he shoved the door and went out, letting it close behind him with a bit too much force.

Monique shook her head. "I'll go check on him."

She stood as well and followed him out.