“I insisted on moving into your room,” I cut in calmly. “Seeing how you’re my husband.”
Silence.
His stare made me wonder if I spoke in a different language.
I picked up my coffee, deliberately taking a slow sip while holding his gaze over the rim of the cup. The heat of it grounded me. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. I took another slow sip,staring him down over the rim as he visibly struggled for the right thing to say.
He opened his mouth, closed it. Then, finally, said, “I’m sorry.”
I stared at him for a beat longer than necessary, waiting for something else. An explanation. A correction. Anything. But when he didn’t add another word, I sighed—long and tired, like I didn’t have the energy for this game of cautious apologies and unspoken assumptions.
“Do you have any intention of making this marriage work?” I asked.
The question came out flatter than I meant it to, but it was real. It was the truth sitting heavy on my tongue. Callahan blew out a breath, his shoulders rising and falling. He looked away for a second, jaw tight, like he was battling with himself about how honest he was willing to be.
“I didn’t think you were serious,” he admitted.
My grip on the mug tightened slightly. “About what?”
“About… our marriage.” His voice was steady, but there was something defensive underneath it. “I didn’t think you cared who you married as long as he was a billionaire. That could’ve been anyone.”
For a moment, I didn’t speak.
Not because I didn’t have anything to say—but because I had too much, and I didn’t trust myself not to throw it all at him like a weapon. The quiet stretched between us.
Maria hovered for a second like she wanted to intervene, then wisely disappeared again, leaving me alone with Callahan’s words and the way they sat in my chest like a weight.
I set my mug down carefully, forcing my voice to stay calm even though my annoyance was flaring hotter.
“So that’s what you think?” I asked, staring at him. “That I just… picked you because of your bank account?”
Callahan’s eyes held mine, and he didn’t back down. “It’s what you said you wanted.”
I inhaled slowly.
I knew the moment I asked the question that I might not like the answer.
But I asked anyway.
“Do you think I’m a gold digger?”
My voice didn’t shake. I made sure of that. I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his words had sliced into me.
Callahan didn’t respond.
He didn’t laugh it off.
He didn’t even look offended that I asked.
He just… went silent.
And that silence was louder than anything he could have said.
Something inside my chest cracked. I gave a small nod, swallowing down the hurt that threatened to rise up and choke me. “Okay.”
“Evania—”
“No.” I shook my head once. “It’s fine.”
