After My Groom Gave Me to His Business Partner

The first rumble of thunder shook the windows, sending a tremor through the darkened bedroom. I jolted awake, my heart racing as lightning illuminated the unfamiliar room. Another crash followed, closer this time, and I heard something shift in the darkness.

"Elijah?" I called softly, reaching for the lamp.

No answer came, but I heard another sound—a muffled whimper from somewhere near the floor.

Slipping from the bed, I followed the sound to Elijah's room across the hall. The door stood ajar, swinging gently in the draft from the open window. Rain lashed against the glass as I stepped inside.

"Elijah?" I whispered again, scanning the shadowy room.

A movement beneath the massive four-poster bed caught my eye. Two wide, frightened eyes peered out from under the dust ruffle.

"Elijah," I said gently, approaching slowly. "It's just thunder."

He shook his head, his body pressed against the wall. "Bad noises."

Without thinking, I lowered myself to the floor and slid under the bed beside him. The space was tight, forcing us to press close together. His body trembled against mine.

"I used to hide under beds too," I admitted, remembering the nights I'd spent curled beneath my mother's bed after she died, listening to Victoria's voice echoing through the halls.

Lightning flashed again, followed immediately by a deafening crack of thunder. Elijah flinched, burying his face against my shoulder.

I began to hum softly—a lullaby I'd sung to Caden once, long ago, when we were children caught in a storm during a summer picnic. The memory surfaced unexpectedly, bringing with it a pang of loss.

"Pretty," Elijah murmured, his breathing steadying as he listened.

I continued humming, stroking his hair as the storm raged outside. Gradually, his trembling subsided. His fingers traced the line of my jaw with surprising gentleness.

"You are safe here," he whispered, his eyes holding mine with an intensity that took my breath away.

For the first time since our hasty marriage, I felt something more than pity for this gentle man. There was a connection forming between us—something pure and untainted by the calculations and manipulations that had defined my relationship with Caden.

---

The Bennett estate gardens bloomed with color and fragrance, the afternoon sun casting golden light across the manicured lawns. Mrs. Bennett had insisted on hosting a garden party to officially welcome me into the family, despite my protests that such formalities weren't necessary.

I smoothed down my modest, high-necked dress—chosen specifically to hide the scars that wrapped around my torso and up my back. The weight of curious gazes followed me as I moved among the guests, some kind, others calculating.

"Zelda Montgomery," a familiar voice drawled behind me. "Playing house with the Bennetts now?"

I turned to find Caden standing there, his tie loosened, his eyes slightly unfocused. The scent of expensive scotch clung to him.

"You're drunk," I said quietly. "You shouldn't be here."

He ignored me, his gaze landing on Elijah, who sat at a small table nearby, sketching. With unsteady steps, Caden moved toward him.

"What's this?" he demanded, looming over Elijah. "Drawing your new wife?"

Elijah looked up, confusion clouding his features. "She's pretty."

Caden snatched the sketchbook, holding it up for all to see. "This is what passes for art in this family?"

The drawing was simple but captured something essential about me—the tilt of my head, the way I looked when I thought no one was watching.

With deliberate cruelty, Caden tore the page from the book, then ripped it again and again until it was confetti in his hands.

The sound that escaped me was primal—a gasp of outrage that silenced the gathering. Before I could think, my hand connected with Caden's cheek, the slap echoing across the suddenly quiet garden.

Elijah rose from his chair, his movements surprisingly quick. He gathered the torn pieces of his drawing, his expression solemn.

"Bad man go away," he said firmly, his voice carrying an authority I'd never heard before.

Security guards materialized at Mrs. Bennett's signal, escorting a stunned Caden toward the gate.

"This isn't over," he called over his shoulder. "I'll save you from yourself, Zelda!"

---

"The changes are remarkable," Dr. Sarah Chen said, reviewing Elijah's latest test results in the Bennett library. "Since Mrs. Bennett's arrival, his stress markers have decreased significantly."

I glanced up from the book I'd been pretending to read. "Is that unusual?"

Dr. Chen nodded thoughtfully. "In cases like Elijah's, environmental factors can play a significant role in cognitive function."

She hesitated, then added more softly, "There's something else you should know."

From her briefcase, she withdrew a file—yellowed with age but marked with official seals.

"Elijah's accident wasn't accidental," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The police report indicates his brake lines were cut."

My blood ran cold. "Who would do such a thing?"

"There was never enough evidence to prosecute," Dr. Chen replied, her eyes meeting mine meaningfully. "But the Montgomery name appears in the investigation notes."

"Montgomery?" I repeated, thinking of Victoria's calculating eyes and Phoebe's cruel smile.

As Dr. Chen continued discussing Elijah's progress, my mind raced with connections. First my mother's mysterious death, then Elijah's "accident"—could there be a pattern here? And if so, what did it mean for me now?