Josh's Point of View
The soft whimpers from down the hall pulled me from my work. I'd been trying to ignore them for twenty minutes, but something about the sound, desperate and small, wouldn't let me concentrate.
I found myself in Eliza's doorway, watching her small body thrash beneath twisted sheets. She whimpered something about monsters, I smoothed the blanket over her, careful not to wake her.
"Shh," I whispered, smoothing the blanket over her trembling form. "You're safe."
A voice cut through the quiet. "Is she having nightmares again?"
I didn't look up. I knew it was her, Sofia. I could always tell when she was near. There was a tension she carried with her, like a storm wrapped in perfume.
"She mumbled something about monsters," I said. "I thought she was talking about you."
Her silence said everything. I could feel her jaw lock from across the room.
"You think you're funny," she said stiffly.
I didn't respond. Looking at Eliza's clenched fists, ready to fight even in her sleep, I felt something twist in my chest. This kid didn't ask for any of this, the fake marriage, the charade, being caught between whatever game Sofia and I were playing.
"What are you even doing in here?" Sofia leaned against the doorframe. "I thought playing daddy wasn't part of your contract."
The accusation stung because it was fair. I'd built my reputation on not caring about anything that couldn't benefit me. But something about this kid, her stubborn chin, the way she looked at me like I might actually be worth something had wormed its way past my defenses.
"I heard her crying," I replied. "You were downstairs."
"And now you care?" She asked.
I stood, my hands in fists by my sides. I didn't trust myself to say anything else. I walked past Sofia, keeping my gaze ahead, but the words found their way out anyway. "She doesn't deserve any of this."
Her reply came low, bitter. "Me neither. But here we are."
I paused at the doorway. "Goodnight," I whispered, then walked away before I could say something I'd regret. I didn't expect to sleep. I rarely do these days.
The next morning, I found myself reading to her. The next morning, I found myself reading to Eliza in the sunroom. It wasn't planned, she'd simply appeared with a book and those wide eyes that seemed to see right through all my defenses.
"And then the hungry caterpillar ate through ONE piece of chocolate cake," I read aloud, dragging my finger across the page.
"Just like me!" Eliza giggled. "I love cake with chocolate!"
Her laugh was infectious, and I found myself smiling genuinely for the first time in years. "Me too, kid."
From the corner of my eye, I caught Sofia watching us from the doorway. Her expression was unreadable, but something flickered across her face; surprise, maybe even pain. Good, let her wonder what my angle was. Let her try to figure out if this was part of some larger strategy.
And why did her presence make me suddenly self-conscious about reading to a seven-year-old?
I closed the book. "Time for you to play, kid."
Eliza's face fell. "But we didn't finish—"
"Later," I said, already standing. I couldn't meet Sofia's eyes as I walked past her, couldn't bear to see whatever judgment lurked there.
By evening, we'd transformed back into the perfect couple. Sofia wore silk the color of champagne, her smile as polished as the crystal glasses on our dining table.
Eliza sat between us, humming tunelessly while the maid served dessert. I noticed her hair was beautifully braided with small pink ribbons, and chocolate had already smeared her chin despite Sofia's best efforts.
"Sweetheart, use your napkin," Sofia murmured, the endearment rolling off her tongue like honey over broken glass.
The investors across from us seemed impressed. "Josh, she's quite the catch," one remarked, raising his glass. "Refined, elegant and perfect for your image."
"She certainly is," I agreed, sliding my arm around Sofia's shoulders. Her body tensed slightly at the contact, but her smile never wavered. "A real asset to the Reynolds name."
Sofia's laugh sounded genuine to everyone else, but I felt the subtle dig of her nails against my wrist.
"How did you two meet again?" Matthews' wife leaned forward, eyes bright with curiosity.
I tightened my grip on Sofia's shoulder, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind her who was in control. "At a charity gala. She was impossible to ignore."
"Love at first sight?" One of the guests asked.
Sofia's smile broadened. "Something like that."
I studied her as she lied so effortlessly. She was good at this game, better than I'd expected when I'd first agreed to this arrangement.
After our guests departed, I retreated to my office. The lights stayed dim. I leaned against my desk, "No, she's not dumb," I said to my assistant on the call. "But she won't dig too deep as long as she thinks she's in charge." I paused, listening for the slight creak of floorboards in the hallway.
"Just keep things steady until the end of the quarter."
I ended the call and opened the door to find Sofia frozen in the corridor, full shock and fury.
"Enjoying your evening stroll?" I asked softly.
"I was just—"
"Eavesdropping?" I leaned against the doorframe, letting amusement color my tone. "You're quite the actress, Sofia. But don't mistake yourself for the only player in this game."
Her throat worked silently, and I could practically see the gears turning behind her eyes.
"Then why continue the charade?" She asked.
I stepped closer, invading her space until I could smell her perfume, something expensive and sharp, like hers. "Because I want to see exactly how far you're willing to go."
I traced her cheek with my fingertips, not gentle, not cruel, just enough contact to make her shiver. She was so focused on reading me that she'd forgotten I was reading her too.
"Eliza's lucky," I said softly. "She thinks you're a hero."
Sofia shoved past me without another word, fleeing to her room. I listened to her door slam and smiled to myself.
Three days passed, and I kept my distance from Eliza. It was easier that way, easier to pretend none of this mattered. So I hid behind work and in silence, telling myself it was easier this way.
Still, I couldn't completely ignore her. When she cried, I found myself listening outside her door. When she drew pictures and stuck them to the refrigerator, my hand would linger over them longer than necessary.
On my way to the office, I heard Eliza's voice from her room talking to Sofia.
"Does he hate little girls?" The question stopped me cold. I pressed myself against the wall, straining to hear Sofia's response.
"He's just not used to children," Sofia said gently. "Give him time."
"But I like him. He makes the best monster voices when he reads stories."
The words from Eliza hit me like a physical blow. The innocent child liked me, not my money, not my power, not what I could do for her. Just me. When was the last time anyone felt that way?
After work, I couldn't sleep. I found myself wandering downstairs, drawn by restlessness I couldn't name. Eliza had left her teddy bear in my study earlier. I'd been staring at it for hours, then
I picked it up carefully. It smelled like strawberry shampoo.
"I didn't realize you were a midnight teddy bear thief." Sofia's voice startled me.
"She left it in my study."
"Are you going to give it to her?"
I placed it gently on the couch. "Why do you care? Don't add meaning to this."
Sofia crossed her arms, studying me with that penetrating gaze. "Why do you hate her?"
"I don't." The denial came too quickly, too sharp.
"Then why won't you let yourself care about her?"
The question hung between us like a challenge.
"She's a distraction to my goal. It's just a year, and we'll be over with." I lied, I didn't mean to say it, but I did.
Then a tremendous crash echoed from upstairs, followed by Eliza's terrified scream.
We ran toward the sound, taking the stairs two at a time. Eliza sat bolt upright in her bed, pointing at the window with wide, frightened eyes.
"There was someone," she gasped. "Looking in at me!"
Sofia rushed to comfort her while I checked the window, scanning the darkness beyond the glass. "I don't see anyone."
But then Sofia's sharp intake of breath drew my attention to the muddy footprint by the window, too large to be Eliza's, too fresh to be old.
I followed her gaze, and for the first time, our expressions matched. Fear. Who was watching us?
And more importantly… Who was watching her?