After returning home, Julian dropped his haul in his room, grabbed a quick dinner, and plopped onto the living room couch. He pulled out his phone to pass the time while waiting for Valerie, but after losing three matches in a row—getting brutally caught by the ghost boss every single time—he sighed heavily and locked the screen.
Remembering something, he stood up and fetched his laptop. He navigated to a sketchy, encrypted website and clicked the messaging icon to send a brief text:
Is everything running smoothly?
The answer arrived within seconds—a simple thumbs-up emoji, followed by:
You did your part. Just go back to work normally.
Julian typed back:
Got any big gigs?
The response was just as fast.
You short on cash? There are no good bounties lately, but I just got this offer today. How about we see who succeeds first, like back in the day? I haven't started yet.
As Julian read the reply, he dug a piece of hard candy out of the coffee table drawer and popped it into his mouth. He rolled it around, his brows furrowing as he tried to identify the strange, clashing flavors. The candy clicked sharply against his teeth.
Then, his eyes fell on one of the target emails attached to the pitch.
His face turned ice-cold in a fraction of a second. He swallowed the candy whole without thinking, his grey eyes darkening as he scanned the request.
He fired off another message:
Who is the client? It seems one of the targets is...
Julian hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keyboard, before typing:
...my role model.
The response was delayed this time. Just as the apartment door clicked open, the screen lit up:
Since it's you, I'll give you a tip. Looks like an inside conflict.
Julian slammed the laptop shut. The cold, dangerous edge in his eyes vanished, his gaze softening instantly as he turned toward the entryway.
"Welcome home, Val," he said.
Valerie froze for a few seconds. She wasn't accustomed to returning home to bright lights and someone waiting for her. Her mind drifted to their new relationship—one that needed to flourish in under two weeks. Instead of heading straight to her room, she approached her husband, who attentively made space for her to sit beside him.
His gaze studied her haggard face in silence, his ears tuning into her slow, steady breaths. His eyes locked with her calm, brown ones, which perfectly reflected her stoic personality. She leaned back against the couch with a deep sigh, closing her dry eyes in discomfort.
"How was your shopping today?" she asked, attempting small talk.
The sprawling castle of his ever-growing plans came to a sudden halt. His dear wife was working herself to the bone, losing sleep over pests who didn't know their place. She was soft-hearted, despite her hard outer shell.
Julian’s fingers hesitated, hovering close to the dark circles under her eyes, before softly retreating. He gently brushed away a few stray strands of light brown hair that had fallen across her face, pulling his hand back before she could pull away.
When he spoke, his voice was low and gentle. "Are you in pain? Did you get checked the day we met?"
He cursed himself inwardly. He had been so overjoyed just to be near her that he’d forgotten she might be hurt, masking it behind a blank expression.
Valerie opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling in a daze. "Just a muscle strain," she mumbled. "It'll be fine in a week or two."
In her mind, she was already calculating the mountain of documents she had to review tomorrow. It’s almost midnight. If I wash up and get into bed right now, I might get six hours of sleep—assuming I don't wake up in the middle of the night.
Her focus snapped back when Julian gently pulled away the hand she was unconsciously pressing against her forehead to ease the tension. His warm fingers applied a slight, soothing pressure to her temples. She tried to nudge his hands away, but he didn't comply.
"Relax," he murmured. "Didn't you say we have to work on getting comfortable with each other? Two weeks isn't that long. Won't it look unconvincing if we can't hold physical contact for more than three seconds?"
She gave in with a muted, "Hmm," and tried to ignore the foreign touch. Acknowledging that they needed gradual steps, Julian kept some distance, extending his arms rather than leaning in too close. Still, she fought the instinctual urge to pull away.
Sensing her stiffness, Julian tried to shift her focus. "Seems like your meeting wasn't exactly fruitful. What’s so important that it has you this angry?" With his fingers, he gently smoothed out the brows that had furrowed at his question.
She smirked. "Are you trying to dig for company secrets? Anxious much?"
"How could you doubt me?" he defended himself in a pitiful tone. "I was just concerned for your health. No matter how important the job is, your well-being comes first."
Valerie’s eyes opened slowly as they grew accustomed to the light. She looked at him, trying to discern if his words were genuine. My well-being? A newly founded relationship between two strangers... where does such concern come from? People I’ve known my whole life can’t wait to see me break, whether for profit or just for fun. Yet a stranger looks at me with such ambiguous emotion—one I haven't seen much of. As if he genuinely cares.
Julian stopped massaging her temples the moment she opened her eyes. He adopted a serious expression, looking deep in thought, only to shock her with his next words.
"What if you collapse and stop working? Where will my allowance come from?"
Calling it an allowance rather than a salary?
She stared at him, utterly confused, before letting out a chuckle. Amused, she replied, "I have enough to take care of you for a lifetime."
Mesmerized by the rare, downturned smile that suddenly lit up the room, Julian fought the urge to cheer in happy surprise at her mention of a lifetime . Still, a genuine smile slipped through. He cleared his throat before continuing. "You do realize I'm joking, right? I just hope you stay healthy and happy."
Seeing her return to her usual calm expression, he added, "Don't worry, I will never, ever tell your secrets to outsiders, whether personal or work-related. After all, we are husband and wife. Although not the typical kind, trust is fundamental." He hesitated, then forced himself to continue. "Even if we... part ways, I will keep your secrets."
Valerie listened in silence. Husband and wife, huh. I am even losing trust in myself.
She finally stood up. Her precious sleeping time was decreasing by the second, and if she didn't cut the conversation short, Julian looked ready to talk all night.
"That is a relief, then," she commented on his promise, before turning and heading upstairs.
In the morning, Valerie found Julian already awake and waiting at the breakfast table—early again.
After eating, she slipped into her home office to answer a few early emails. As the clock struck eight, she wrapped up, closed the office door, and went to change her shoes to head out for the workday ahead. That was when she noticed Julian sitting on the couch. He had already changed into casual clothes, his laptop bag resting by his side. She raised an eyebrow. Was his allowance not enough? Did he really still need to get up this early to work, or was he just trying to avoid boredom?
Refraining from asking, she simply said, "Come home early tonight. We still need to interact if we want better results."
Julian smirked, rising from the couch and stepping into her personal space. "Why wait until tonight? We can spend all day together. Let's go." He swung the front door open and motioned for her to step out.
"Go where?"
"To your office, of course," he replied smoothly. "A few minutes every day won't suffice if we're going to get comfortable with each other. So, I am spending the day with you."
"I'll be busy," Valerie countered, her tone clipped. "It won't be helpful."
"I know my CEO works diligently. I won't disturb you—I'll just sit off to the side and study your little habits, and how you interact with other people."
Valerie fixed her gaze on him. His expression was decisive, unyielding. He seemed entirely eager to learn more about her, even if it meant encroaching on her already scarce free time–which can affect her sleep- She weighed the pros and cons but refused to give in too hastily.
"What about sensitive information?" she challenged, crossing her arms. "What really guarantees you can be trusted?”