To Have, To Hold

Chapter 7

### **Chapter Seven: The Facade**

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**Elena** sat at the vanity, staring at her reflection in the mirror, her fingers gingerly brushing the thin scarf that concealed the faint bruise on her neck. Her heart pounded with nervous anticipation as she thought about the dinner **Marcus** had so carefully arranged for that evening. It had been days since the confrontation in the kitchen, and though the tension between them had not lessened, Marcus had suggested they put on a front for Alexander's sake.

"We need to be convincing," he had said earlier that morning, his tone devoid of emotion. "I want him to see that everything is fine between us. We'll move back into the same room, have dinner together, make it look like nothing's wrong."

Elena had known it wasn't a request—it never was with Marcus. It was a scheme, a performance meant to fool Alexander into thinking their marriage was intact. The bruise on her neck, still tender from his grip, was a stark reminder of how wrong everything truly was. But Marcus didn't care about the truth. He cared about appearances, about control.

As she prepared for dinner, Elena's thoughts drifted to **Alexander**, who had been nothing but kind to her and Liam since his arrival. There was a comfort in his presence, a warmth that made her feel seen in a way Marcus hadn't in years. But tonight wasn't about comfort—it was about playing a role.

Downstairs, the dining room had been set with the finest china, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows on the walls. Marcus was already seated at the head of the table, looking the part of a charming husband. Elena descended the stairs slowly, her heart heavy with dread.

"**Elena**, you look beautiful," Marcus said smoothly as she entered the room, standing to pull out her chair for her. It was such a stark contrast to his usual cold demeanor that it almost made her shudder. But she forced a smile, playing along with the charade.

"Thank you," she murmured, taking her seat and adjusting the scarf around her neck, hoping it wouldn't draw attention.

As they settled into awkward small talk, the door swung open, and Alexander entered with **Liam** at his side. Elena's heart lifted for a moment as Liam smiled at her, his eyes bright from the excitement of his day spent with his uncle.

"Dinner looks wonderful," Alexander said warmly, taking a seat across from Elena, his gaze lingering on her for just a second longer than usual.

Throughout the meal, Marcus played the perfect host, engaging in lighthearted conversation as if nothing had ever been wrong between them. He spoke of old memories and made jokes that might have once made Elena laugh, but now felt hollow. Liam ate happily, oblivious to the tension simmering beneath the surface, while Alexander remained polite but observant.

It was during a lull in the conversation that **Alexander's** eyes drifted to Elena, and she saw it—the moment he noticed. His gaze lingered just a little too long on the scarf around her neck, his brow furrowing in quiet concern. Elena stiffened, her hand instinctively going to her neck, adjusting the fabric to make sure the bruise remained hidden.

Alexander didn't say anything, but his eyes met hers, and in that brief exchange, Elena knew he understood. He had seen the bruise, or at least part of it. He knew something wasn't right. And yet, for the sake of the evening, he remained silent, his expression betraying only a flicker of his worry before he resumed the conversation with Marcus.

The rest of the dinner passed in a blur, with Marcus continuing his act, and Elena doing her best to play along. But the weight of Alexander's gaze stayed with her, a silent reminder that no matter how much Marcus tried to cover up the cracks in their marriage, someone had seen through it.

Later that evening, after **Liam** had been put to bed and the house had grown quiet, Marcus approached her in their shared bedroom. The one they hadn't slept in together for years. He had made good on his earlier promise, insisting they return to the same room to keep up the illusion for Alexander.

"Tonight went well," he said, his voice smug as he began to undress. "He'll believe us now. Everything is falling into place."

Elena remained silent, standing by the window, her arms wrapped around herself. She wanted to scream, to lash out, to tell Marcus that his games would never change the truth. But she couldn't. She knew the consequences too well.

Instead, she nodded, her throat tight. "Yes, it went well."

But even as she said the words, she couldn't shake the memory of Alexander's concerned gaze, the way he had seen through the mask she and Marcus had put on. She didn't know what he would do with that knowledge, but a part of her hoped—prayed—that maybe, just maybe, he would be the one to save her from this nightmare.

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