The tour took about twenty minutes.
Ethan showed Amelia the main floor, the private offices, the conference room where he held meetings. He introduced her to a handful of people—names she forgot almost immediately, faces that blurred together.
But Victoria followed them the entire time.
Not obviously. She'd drift away to answer a phone call, then reappear by a doorway. She'd stop to speak to someone, then fall amicably into step behind them.
When they finally stepped into Ethan's private office and he closed the door, Amelia let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.
"She hates me," Amelia said.
Ethan walked to his desk, setting down the folder he'd been carrying. "Victoria doesn't hate anyone."
"She doesn't like me."
"She doesn't know you."
"Well, that's true." Amelia crossed her arms.
Ethan looked at her then—really looked. "What did you notice?"
Amelia thought about it.
The way Victoria's eyes had lingered on Ethan. The way her smile had tightened when he stood close to Amelia.
The way she'd said anything at all like it was a challenge.
She uncrossed her arms and walked to the window.
The city sprawled beneath her, indifferent and vast.
He moved to stand beside her at the window. Not touching, but close. Close enough that she could feel the warmth of him.
"Victoria and I have history," he said carefully. "But not the kind you're thinking. She's been with the company since the beginning. She's seen things. Done things. And somewhere along the way, she decided she wanted more than I could give her."
"What did she want?"
"You."
Amelia turned to look at him. "Me?"
"Not you specifically. What you represent. A life I wasn't willing to share with anyone." He paused. "Until now."
The words hung between them, heavy and fragile.
Amelia's throat tightened. "You barely know me."
"I know enough."
"That's not—"
The door opened.
Victoria stood in the doorway, a stack of papers in her hand. Her eyes moved from Ethan to Amelia and back again.
"Sorry to interrupt," she said. "But these need your signature before the end of the day."
Ethan nodded. "Leave them on the desk."
Victoria walked in, set the papers down, and paused. Her gaze settled on Amelia one more time.
"It was nice to meet you, Amelia," she said. "I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot of each other."
The words were pleasant. The look in her eyes was not.
Then she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her.
The rest of Amelia's stay in the office was pleasant. Just her and her addiction—reading books.
She noticed that Ethan has a lot of books in his office, almost like he owns a Library.
_____
The drive back was quieter than the drive there.
Amelia sat with her head against the window, watching the city fade into suburbs, the suburbs into empty roads. Her body was tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep and everything to do with the weight of the day.
Amelia shifted in her seat, adjusting the fabric of her dress absentmindedly. She hadn't realized she'd spoken out loud until Ethan's voice cut through her thoughts.
"Say that again."
She blinked. "What?"
"Just now. You said something."
Amelia replayed the last few seconds. Had she? She'd been thinking about Victoria. About the way she'd looked at Ethan. About the way he'd stood so close to her in the office, like he was making a point.
"I asked if you were both dating," Amelia said, the words slipping out before she could stop them.
Ethan's grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly. Then relaxed.
"It doesn't matter," he said.
"It matters to me."
He glanced at her. Just briefly. But in that glance, she saw something she hadn't seen before. Uncertainty.
"Why?" he asked.
Amelia opened her mouth. Closed it.
Because she didn't have an answer. Not one she was ready to give.
She looked out the window instead. "Forget I asked."
"I can't."
"Ethan—"
"You're my wife." His voice was low, careful. "That means your questions matter. Even the ones you don't want to ask."
She turned back to him. "Were you in love with her?"
"No."
"Did she think you were?"
He was quiet for a moment.
Then: "She thought I would eventually give her what she wanted. She thought time would change things. She thought I would wake up one day and realize she was the right choice."
"But you didn't."
"No." He looked at her then, fully, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Because I was waiting for someone else."
Amelia's heart stopped.
Then it started again, faster than before.
She wanted to pretend she didn't know, she wanted to ask who. She wanted to ask how long. She wanted to ask a hundred questions that lodged in her throat and refused to come out.
Instead, she turned back to the window and said nothing.