Chapter 2

Caden

I was awakened by a crisp shattering sound, and the moment my consciousness cleared, severe headache surged up instantly, like a drill violently boring into my temple, sharp pain pulling at my entire head.

There was a warm sensation on my hand, but this feeling was wrong, this wasn't Vivian's scent.

I suddenly opened my eyes, and immediately saw Camille's hazy eyes. Her coat was thrown aside, she was nearly naked, leaning softly against me like she had no bones. Seeing me wake up, she seemed to have just reacted, her expression instantly becoming panicked.

"Camille? What the hell is going on!" I pushed her away abruptly, buttoned up my shirt, and let out a low growl.

"Caden..." Camille seemed somewhat afraid as she widened her eyes, her chin trembling slightly, her eye sockets instantly turning red. "Caden, I'm sorry," she said while pulling her shirt together and lowering her head, "I don't know how it just... I drank too much tonight, I might have mistaken you for Marcus, he just broke up with me, I..."

Her tearful appearance made me feel irritated. "Stop." I stopped her coldly.

"This won't happen again," I finally said, my voice without warmth. "Camille, at the company call me Mr. Lux, nothing else. If you can't maintain this boundary, hand in your resignation tomorrow, I'll arrange another position for you."

Her face paled, and she lowered her head without speaking.

I stopped looking at her and supported my somewhat heavy body as I walked toward the coat rack by the door. I thought I needed to put on a jacket first.

Then I saw the hallway floor—soup spilled everywhere, with broken porcelain pieces beside it—this was probably what had awakened me.

And that thermos, I was too familiar with it.

It was Vivian's.

She had been here.

She had come and seen everything behind this door—a scene that looked devastating from any angle, with no room for explanation or clearing up. What met her eyes was a compromising scene, even though I could explain.

"Damn it."

I cursed under my breath, and without even changing my shirt that still reeked of alcohol, I quickly walked toward the elevator. Camille behind me seemed to want to stop me, but I paid no attention.

"Back to the penthouse apartment. Drive fast."

Getting in the car, I quickly commanded the driver.

During the rapid drive, I closed my eyes and briefly organized my thoughts—after closing the deal tonight, Camille had come in, suggesting we have a simple celebration. I actually knew today was my and Vivian's wedding anniversary, but precisely because of this, I felt somewhat irritated.

We'd been married for three years, and Vivian always maintained that calm, elegant appearance, keeping her spine straight, looking flawless. Most people under pressure either collapse or explode, but Vivian would stop, look at you with those calm eyes, then leave silently without a sound.

This stagnant water-like attitude always drove me nearly insane.

Perhaps she had already given her passion to another man. Thinking of that incident made my throat constrict.

When I reached the top floor, I saw that somewhat lost-looking figure just about to close the door.

I walked quickly and placed my hand against the door.

Her body trembled, she turned around abruptly and looked at me. Her eyes first showed surprise, then quickly changed to that maddening expression—calm as a stagnant pool, maintaining the proper politeness toward a stranger she'd just met. She nodded at me, then walked into the house.

"Vivian. Aren't you going to say something?" I heard inexplicable anger creeping into my voice. Her faint fragrance made me even more crazy. Right now I just wanted to pull her over and imprison her tightly in my arms.

This sentence had some effect. Vivian turned around, and for that instant I saw something crack across her face—but it was fleeting, and she put on that cold mask again.

"What do you want me to say, Caden?"

"Anything." Question me, get angry at me, grab something and throw it at me. Just not like this. Don't look at me like you're watching the weather forecast, treating me as an external factor that has nothing to do with you.

"I saw it," she took a deep breath. "Sorry, I originally intended to pick you up, didn't mean to disturb you."

"Vivian—"

"I want to remind you," she spoke lightly, but her words stabbed at my heart like a scalpel. "We agreed when we signed the contract initially. Our separate lives, no interference with each other. I cooperate with the public occasions you need, you maintain the business partnerships you need. But please don't bring any—dirty diseases or troubles home." She tilted her head slightly. "I just hope you remember what kind of marriage we have."

I heard something shatter in my heart.

Three years of accumulated frustration—about myself, about this situation, about the relationship between us that was always one step short of bridging the distance—all erupted at this moment.

"What kind of marriage?" I repeated her words, my voice ugly, but I couldn't stop. "I'll tell you what kind of marriage, Vivian Holloway. Without this marriage, Holloway Group would have gone bankrupt three years ago. It's me who's been supporting the Holloway family with real money, and using three years of capital infusion in exchange for good strategic cooperation. You want to talk about contracts? Fine, then your contract is: this apartment, that title of Mrs. Lux, everything you're living now, it's all given by my Lux family. Don't put on that wronged act for me here, know your place—"

Caden, stop. I heard a voice screaming in my heart, but I couldn't control myself at all.

The air froze for a moment. I released her wrist, turned and went upstairs, slamming the bedroom door hard.

God, what have I done? I sat down by the bed, staring at the floor, very clearly realizing that I had just made everything worse, and thoroughly worse at that.

Actually, in the beginning, Vivian and I got along quite sweetly. Because long before anyone mentioned arranged marriage, long before Vivian agreed to marry me, I already wanted to marry her.

I had been to Lincoln Center no less than a hundred times, attending various cultural events I had to attend. I would always sit with business partners, zone out, then applaud and leave, feeling basically no emotional waves, occasionally finding the technical aspects impressive.

But then Vivian appeared. She spun and leaped on stage, more graceful than a forest sprite. When the curtain fell and the entire theater erupted in applause, she stood in that light, chin raised, eyes bright—all I could think was: it's her.

So when I learned the arranged marriage was with the Holloway family, secret anticipation had already grown in my heart. For the first time, I didn't resist my father's arrangements with irritation, but followed him to the Holloway family's living room, where I met her offstage. The moment she saw me, her eyes also lit up, even more lively than a young deer.

We did spend some passionate times together, if not for that incident...

That incident made me suffer and struggle, but I think I still love her, it's just that perhaps there's always that one step of distance between us that we can't cross.

Forget it, there are meetings tomorrow.

I pressed my still-aching temples and opened my phone to send a text to Camille.

[Remember to bring the dress I selected tomorrow. For my wife's styling.]

Soon, my phone received a reply. Camille was always efficient. Perhaps tonight's incident was just an accident too.

[Okay.]

I put down my phone, roughly took off my clothes and got into bed, feeling the cold darkness.