CEO's Girl Chapter 1

Edward Sterling's world was a fortress of glass and steel, perched fifty stories above the city. His office was a testament to his ambition: minimalist, stark, and utterly devoid of personal warmth. He preferred it that way. Emotions were a liability, a weakness he’d purged from his life years ago, replacing them with cold logic and relentless efficiency. As the CEO of Sterling Innovations, he was a king in his own right, and his kingdom ran on his every command.

His latest command, however, felt less like a conquest and more like a surrender. A marriage. An archaic, pre-arranged business merger disguised as a union between two families. The thought of it was a bitter pill he was forced to swallow every night when he returned to his penthouse.

His wife, Elizabeth, was a ghost in his home. She moved through the vast, modern space with a quiet grace that was almost unnerving. He never saw her, not really. He saw the blur of her floral dresses in the hallway, the faint scent of lavender she left in her wake, but never the person. He had married her because he had to, a transactional necessity to secure a powerful alliance for his company. Nothing more.

Tonight was no different. He walked into the penthouse, the silence of the space enveloping him. He loosened his tie, his mind still on the quarterly reports and a difficult merger deal. The front door closed with a soft click, a sound that usually meant he was alone. But tonight, he heard a different sound: the gentle clinking of porcelain from the kitchen.

He found her there, standing at the pristine marble counter. She was wearing a simple, elegant blue dress, her dark hair pulled back in a loose bun. She wasn't looking at him, but at a delicate teacup she held in her hands. The soft glow from the overhead lights seemed to highlight a fragility about her that he found irritating. He preferred strength, resilience.

Elizabeth looked up, startled, as he entered the room. Her eyes, a striking shade of brown, held a fleeting moment of what looked like surprise, followed by a familiar politeness. “Edward. You’re home early.”

Her voice was as soft as the velvet curtains in the living room, and it grated on his nerves. “I’m always home at this time,” he stated, his voice flat. He walked past her to the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of water. He could feel her gaze on his back, a silent question he refused to answer.

“I made some jasmine tea,” she offered, gesturing to the teacup. “I thought you might want some.”

He didn’t even turn to face her. “I don’t drink jasmine tea.”

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the unspoken words that had defined their marriage. It was a silence she had learned to fill with quiet gestures and he with cold indifference. She simply nodded, a small, sad movement, and began to put the teacup away.

He didn't know why, but a flicker of annoyance shot through him. He saw the way her shoulders slumped, the way she carefully placed the cup in the cabinet as if it were a fragile piece of her heart. This was his home, and she was an unwelcome guest. He wanted her to understand that. He wanted her to stop trying.

“Don’t bother,” he said, his voice sharper than he intended. “It’s not necessary.”

She froze, her hand still on the cabinet door. She didn't respond, didn't argue. She just stood there, still and silent, and he hated her for it. He hated the way her quiet acceptance made him feel like the villain.

He took his water and left the kitchen, the soft click of his bedroom door a final, definitive barrier between them. He didn’t want a wife. He wanted his solitude. He wanted his fortress back. But as he sat on his bed, the cold taste of his water did little to wash away the bitter, unsettling feeling left by a single, unused teacup.

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