The elevator's soft ding announced another arrival at Hudson Entertainment's executive floor. I glanced up from my phone, where I'd been scrolling through industry news while waiting for Elliot to finish his morning meetings. Three months of marriage had taught me the rhythm of his schedule—board meetings at nine, client calls until noon, then the perpetual stream of executives seeking his approval.
But today felt different. There was an electricity in the air, a subtle shift in the usually predictable atmosphere of the thirty-second floor. The reception desk, typically manned by Mrs. Chen, Hudson Entertainment's longtime executive assistant, sat empty except for a moving box and a small potted orchid.
"Mrs. Perry?" The voice was soft, almost musical, with a slight breathiness that immediately drew attention. I turned to see a young woman approaching, her movements graceful despite the stack of files in her arms. She was petite, with honey-blonde hair pulled back in a neat chignon and wide blue eyes that held an almost startling innocence.
"I'm Meadow Cunningham," she continued, offering a shy smile. "Mr. Hudson's new executive secretary. I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."
Something cold settled in my stomach as I took in her appearance. She was beautiful in that understated way that men seemed to find irresistible—natural, unassuming, yet polished enough to fit seamlessly into Manhattan's elite circles. Her navy dress was conservative but perfectly tailored, and when she smiled, there was a dimple in her left cheek that made her look even younger than she probably was.
"Not at all," I managed, forcing my own smile. "I'm Cecilia. Elliot's wife."
If she was surprised by my presence, she hid it well. "Oh, how wonderful to meet you! Mr. Hudson speaks of you often." The lie rolled off her tongue so smoothly I almost believed it. In three months of marriage, Elliot had barely spoken to me beyond the necessary pleasantries required to maintain our public facade.
"Does he?" I kept my voice light, curious to see how far she'd take this charade.
Meadow's cheeks flushed a delicate pink. "Well, perhaps not often, but when he does..." She trailed off, ducking her head as if embarrassed by her own boldness. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. It's just that he seems so devoted to his work, and I thought it was sweet that he'd mention you during our meetings."
The elevator chimed again, and Elliot emerged, his dark suit impeccable as always, his expression set in its usual mask of professional composure. But when his eyes found Meadow, something shifted. The stern line of his mouth softened almost imperceptibly, and when he spoke, his voice held a warmth I hadn't heard directed at me since our wedding night.
"Meadow, good. I see you've met my wife." He acknowledged me with a brief nod, the same gesture he might give to any business acquaintance. "How are you settling in?"
"Very well, thank you, Mr. Hudson." She practically glowed under his attention. "Everyone has been so welcoming. Your wife was just telling me how lovely it is to have someone new on the team."
Another lie, delivered with such genuine sweetness that I found myself questioning whether I'd imagined the fabrication. Elliot's gaze flicked to me, something unreadable passing across his features.
"Cecilia appreciates efficiency," he said simply. "I trust you'll find Meadow exceeds expectations in that regard."
The way he said her name—with a familiarity that suggested they'd known each other longer than the few days since Mrs. Chen's retirement—sent another chill through me. I watched as Meadow beamed at the compliment, her whole face lighting up with an almost childlike joy.
"I certainly hope so," she murmured, her voice dropping to that breathy whisper again. "I want to make sure everything runs smoothly for you."
The subtext wasn't lost on me. Everything. Not just his professional life, but the carefully orchestrated performance that was our marriage. I saw how she positioned herself slightly between us, how her body language unconsciously mirrored his, how she seemed to anticipate his needs before he voiced them.
"Well," I said, gathering my purse and standing. "I should let you both get back to work. I'm sure you have a lot to catch up on."
Elliot barely glanced my way. "The car will be ready at seven for the Morrison benefit tonight."
A dismissal wrapped in the pretense of consideration. I nodded, feeling Meadow's eyes on me as I walked toward the elevator. Just before the doors closed, I caught a glimpse of her face. The sweet, innocent mask had slipped for just a moment, replaced by something calculating and cold.
As the elevator descended, carrying me away from whatever game had just begun on the thirty-second floor, I couldn't shake the feeling that my marriage had just acquired its most dangerous threat yet.
