Morning arrived dressed in sunlight and tension.
Elara stood in front of the mirror, smoothing the fabric of the elegant pastel dress laid out for her.
She hadn’t chosen it. Of course not. Adrian’s assistant had along with the heels, the jewelry, even the way her hair was meant to fall.
She stared at her reflection.
Polished. Poised. Someone else.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered.
As if summoned by the complaint, Adrian appeared at the doorway.
Dark suit. Crisp shirt.
That composed expression like emotions were a language he’d politely declined to learn.
“You’re late,” he said.
She turned sharply.
“I’m on time. You’re just early.”
A pause. His lips twitched almost a smile. Almost.
“This is our first public appearance,” he said. “The media will be watching. Investors too.
I need you focused.”
Elara crossed her arms. “Relax. I know how to act.”
“That’s exactly what worries me,” he replied.
Strike one.
The charity gala glittered like a constellation flashbulbs, soft music, whispered names heavy with power.
The moment Adrian’s hand settled at the small of Elara’s back, the noise shifted.
“They’re here.”
“They look perfect.”
“His wife is stunning.”
Elara felt it then the way his touch wasn’t tight, but steady.
Protective.
Like muscle memory.
“Smile,” Adrian murmured near her ear.
She did.
And it felt real.
Too real.
Then she appeared.
Tall.
Confident.
Wrapped in a red gown and entitlement.
She approached with a knowing smile.
“Adrian,” the woman said smoothly.
“You didn’t tell me you were married.”
“I don’t owe you updates, Vivienne,” he replied.
Vivienne’s gaze slid to Elara slow, measuring. “You must be the wife. Interesting.”
Elara tilted her head, smiling sweetly. “And you must be… history.”
Vivienne laughed softly, eyes sharp. “Careful. Some history doesn’t stay buried.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened. His hand dropped from Elara’s back.
That shouldn’t have bothered her.
But it did.
The ride home was silent. Thick. Heavy.
“You didn’t have to be rude,” Adrian finally said.
Elara turned to him, disbelief flashing across her face. “She was clearly flirting with you.”
“She’s a business associate.”
“And that means what? I smile and disappear?”
“This is a contract,” he snapped. “Not a claim.”
Silence fell then shattered.
“Then stop touching me like it means something,” Elara shot back.
“Stop looking at me like you forget it’s fake.”
He turned to her, eyes dark.
“You’re the one forgetting.”
Her chest rose sharply.
“No. I’m remembering exactly where I stand.”
The car stopped.
Doors opened. She stepped out without another word.
Inside the penthouse, two rooms closed.
Two hearts stayed wide awake.
Because pretending in public was easy.
It was the quiet where the truth waited.
…Because pretending in public was easy.
It was the quiet where the truth waited.
Elara didn’t sleep that night.
She lay on her side, staring at the faint glow of the city bleeding through the curtains.
The penthouse was silent again but this silence was different.
It pressed against her chest, heavy, uncomfortable.
Stop touching me like it means something.
Her own words echoed back at her, sharper now.
She turned over, pulling the pillow closer, annoyed at herself. This was supposed to be simple.
A deal.
A role.
She’d agreed to act, not to feel.
And yet
the way Adrian’s hand had rested on her back at the gala, instinctive, possessive.
The way he’d stiffened when Vivienne appeared.
The way his hand had fallen away from her… like he’d chosen distance.
That hurt more than she expected.
Across the penthouse, Adrian stood by the window of his study, tie loosened, jacket abandoned.
The city below looked smaller from up here controlled, predictable.
Unlike the mess in his head.
He replayed the argument again.
Her voice. Her eyes. The way she’d looked at him like he’d betrayed something unspoken.
This is a contract.
Not a claim.
He exhaled slowly.
Then why did it feel like he’d crossed a line the moment he said it?
The next morning was worse.
They ran into each other in the kitchen too early, too quiet, too close.
Elara reached for the coffee machine. Adrian was already there.
“Good morning,” she said, stiffly.
“Morning,” he replied, just as distant.
Their hands brushed again.
This time, neither apologized.
She moved away first.
“I’ll be late today,” she said, focusing on her cup. “I have work.”
“Fine,” he replied. “I have meetings.”
No sarcasm.
No warmth.
Just two people pretending the air between them wasn’t charged.
But the tension followed them
into the hallways,
into the elevators,
into every unspoken glance they avoided.
By evening, the internet was on fire.
Adrian Knight and his wife steal the spotlight.
Power couple goals.
Is love finally softening the Golden Heir?
Elara scrolled through the headlines on her phone, heart sinking.
Love.
What a dangerous word.
She didn’t notice Adrian standing behind her until his reflection appeared on the screen.
“You shouldn’t read those,” he said quietly.
“Why?” she asked. “Afraid I’ll start believing them?”
He paused. “Afraid you’ll get hurt.”
She looked up at him then really looked.
The exhaustion in his eyes. The restraint.
“You don’t get to decide that,” she said softly. “Not anymore.”
Something shifted.
“I never meant for this to be confusing,” he admitted, voice low. “The contract was supposed to protect both of us.”
“And who protects us from ourselves?” she asked.
Silence.
Heavy.
Honest.
Dangerous.
For a moment, it felt like he might reach for her again.
Instead, he stepped back.
“We should keep things professional,” he said.
Elara nodded. “Yes. That’s best.”
But as she walked away, her hands were trembling.
Because professionalism didn’t stop her heart from reacting.
And control didn’t stop Adrian from watching her go.
That night, two rooms stayed lit long past midnight.
Two people lay awake, staring at ceilings they didn’t feel at home under.
And somewhere between jealousy and denial,
the contract marriage crossed its first invisible line.
Hey my dear reader,🥰
I’m Aarushi, and The Golden Heir is more than just a story it’s a quiet midnight feeling, a slow breath between heartbeats, a love that begins where rules exist.
This story believes in soft emotions, unspoken tension, and the magic that grows when two guarded souls are forced to stand close.
Read it slowly. Feel it deeply. And if any moment makes your heart pause… then we’ve met at the right place.
With love,
Aarushi ✨
