I held the door open wider, watching as Arthur's face cycled through shock, confusion, and finally, cold calculation. His jaw tightened as he stepped into my small apartment, his imposing frame making the space feel even more cramped.
"You're Need Iron." It wasn't a question. His voice was flat, controlled.
"And you're Grandson." I closed the door softly behind him. "We should talk before you see her."
Arthur glanced toward the bedroom where his grandmother's voice had come from. "Explain. Now."
I took a deep breath. "Your grandmother reached out to me directly. She wanted someone independent of the Sterling family to care for her. Someone without ulterior motives."
"And you fit that description?" His eyebrow arched with disbelief.
"I didn't know she was your grandmother when I agreed to help her." I kept my voice low. "I only found out after I moved her here."
"Arthur? Is that you?" Mrs. Sterling called again, her voice growing impatient.
Arthur's gaze fixed on me, cold and assessing. "We'll continue this discussion later." Without waiting for my response, he strode toward the bedroom.
I followed quietly, watching as he transformed before my eyes. The stern businessman was gone, replaced by a gentle grandson who bent to kiss the elderly woman's forehead.
"Grandmother," he said warmly. "How are you feeling?"
Mrs. Sterling beamed, reaching up to pat his cheek. "Much better now that you're here. Have you met my lovely companion? She's been taking excellent care of me."
Arthur's eyes briefly met mine over his grandmother's head. "Yes, we've met."
"Wonderful!" Mrs. Sterling clasped her hands together. "Then you know what a treasure she is. So kind, so patient. Not like those nurses at that prison you call a facility."
I moved to the doorway. "I'll give you two some privacy."
"Nonsense!" Mrs. Sterling waved me over. "Come sit with us. Arthur rarely visits, so we must make the most of it."
Reluctantly, I perched on the edge of the bed while Arthur took the chair beside it. The tension between us was palpable, but Mrs. Sterling seemed oblivious.
"Arthur, dear," she began, her eyes twinkling with mischief, "your wife is absolutely charming. Why haven't you brought her to see me before?"
I froze. Arthur's expression hardened momentarily before he forced a smile.
"Grandmother, we've discussed this. Elara and I—"
"Oh, don't give me that nonsense about being too busy," she interrupted. "A man should spend time with his wife. You young people think marriage is something you can put on a shelf and dust off when convenient."
Arthur's eyes met mine, a silent warning not to contradict her. I understood the drill by now—her memory was fragile, and contradicting her delusions could trigger distress.
"I'm sure Arthur is very busy with work," I said diplomatically. "The Sterling Group doesn't run itself."
Mrs. Sterling snorted. "The company will survive without him for a few hours. What won't survive is a marriage without attention." She reached for my hand. "My dear, you mustn't let him neglect you. Sterling men have a terrible habit of hiding behind their work."
Arthur cleared his throat. "Grandmother, you should rest. The doctor is coming tomorrow."
"Another doctor?" She frowned. "I'm perfectly fine. What I need is to see you two together more often. In fact..." Her eyes lit up with sudden inspiration. "You should take Elara shopping tomorrow! Buy her something pretty."
I shot Arthur a panicked look. "Mrs. Sterling, that's really not necessary—"
"I insist!" She squeezed my hand tightly. "Arthur has excellent taste, and you deserve to be spoiled. You work too hard taking care of an old woman like me."
Arthur stood abruptly. "I need to make a call. Excuse me."
He strode from the room, leaving me alone with his grandmother. She watched him go with a knowing smile.
"He's always been the serious one," she confided. "But I see how he looks at you when he thinks I'm not watching."
I felt my cheeks warm. "Mrs. Sterling..."
"Call me Grandmother, dear." She patted my hand. "You're family now."
---
The next morning, I was surprised when Arthur actually showed up at my door, dressed casually in dark jeans and a gray sweater that highlighted his broad shoulders. He looked different outside his suits—younger, less severe.
"You don't have to do this," I said immediately. "We can tell her we went shopping."
"And when she asks to see what you bought?" He raised an eyebrow. "My grandmother's memory may be failing, but she's still sharp. We'll go, buy something suitable, and return in time for the doctor's appointment."
I grabbed my purse and followed him to his waiting car, a sleek black sedan with tinted windows. The driver nodded respectfully as Arthur held the door for me.
"Sterling Mall," Arthur instructed as he slid in beside me.
We rode in uncomfortable silence for several minutes before I finally spoke. "Thank you for not upsetting her yesterday."
"I understand how to handle my grandmother's condition," he replied evenly. "What I don't understand is why she's convinced you're my wife."
I stared out the window. "She saw the marriage certificate. I tried to explain it was a misunderstanding, but she latched onto the idea."
Arthur's jaw tightened. "And you encouraged this delusion?"
"Of course not!" I turned to face him. "But correcting her only upsets her. The doctor advised playing along to avoid agitation."
He studied me for a moment, then nodded slightly. "We'll need to discuss arrangements for her care moving forward. This situation isn't sustainable."
My heart sank. He was going to take her away. "She's happy with me. She hated that facility you had her in."
"She needs professional medical attention," he countered.
"She has it. The doctor visits regularly, and I've taken a leave of absence to care for her full-time."
This seemed to surprise him. "What about your job?"
"It can wait," I said simply.
Arthur fell silent, contemplating something as the car pulled up to Sterling Mall. The driver opened our door, and Arthur surprised me by offering his hand to help me out.
The mall was bustling with weekend shoppers. Arthur guided me toward an exclusive boutique, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back. The gesture felt oddly intimate.
Inside the store, salespeople immediately recognized Arthur, rushing to assist us. He ignored them all, leading me to a section of elegant dresses.
"Choose whatever you like," he said. "My grandmother will expect to see you wearing it."
I hesitated, looking at the price tags. These dresses cost more than my monthly rent.
"I can't accept this," I whispered.
"Consider it payment for caring for my grandmother," he replied pragmatically.
Before I could respond, a familiar voice cut through the boutique's hushed atmosphere.
"Elara? What are you doing here?"
I turned to see Fiona standing there, her perfectly made-up face twisted with disdain. Beside her stood Alistair Dubois, my stepfather, looking uncomfortable.
"This store is far beyond your budget," Fiona continued, her eyes raking over my simple outfit. "Did you get a job as a shop girl?"
I felt Arthur stiffen beside me. "Fiona," I acknowledged with a nod, ignoring her barb.
Her eyes widened as she registered Arthur's presence. "Mr. Sterling! What a surprise to see you here."
"Miss Dubois," he replied coolly. "Is there something you need?"
Fiona's smile turned saccharine. "Actually, we're here shopping for a gift. For your grandmother, in fact." She glanced between Arthur and me, confusion evident. "Though I'm puzzled by your... companion."
"Ms. Dubois is assisting with a personal matter," Arthur said, his tone making it clear the subject was closed.
Alistair stepped forward. "Mr. Sterling, it's an honor. We were hoping to pay our respects to Mrs. Sterling. Fiona's fiancé speaks very highly of his great-grandmother."
"How thoughtful," Arthur replied without warmth. "Though unnecessary."
Fiona, clearly annoyed at being dismissed, turned her attention back to me. "Elara, why don't you run along and let the adults talk? I'm sure Mr. Sterling doesn't need you hovering."
I felt a flush of anger but kept my expression neutral. Before I could respond, an elderly voice called out from near the entrance.
"Arthur? Elara? Where have you wandered off to?"
Mrs. Sterling appeared, supported by her cane but moving determinedly toward us. I rushed to her side.
"You shouldn't be walking around without help," I chided gently.
She waved me off. "Nonsense. I'm not dead yet." Her sharp eyes landed on Fiona and Alistair. "Who are these people?"
Fiona immediately adopted a deferential smile. "You must be Mrs. Sterling. I'm Fiona Dubois, Caleb's fiancée. It's such an honor to meet you."
Mrs. Sterling looked unimpressed. "Caleb? That boy never comes to visit me either."
"We were just discussing a gift for you, ma'am," Alistair interjected smoothly. "Something to brighten your room at the Sterling manor."
"Manor?" Mrs. Sterling scoffed. "I'm not staying in that mausoleum. I'm living with my grandson and his lovely wife." She patted my hand affectionately.
Fiona's smile froze. Her eyes darted between Arthur and me, shock replacing her previous disdain.
"Wife?" she repeated faintly.
Mrs. Sterling looked at her impatiently. "Yes, wife. Are you hard of hearing, girl? This is Elara Sterling, my grandson's wife."
The color drained from Fiona's face. Alistair looked equally stunned. "Elara... Sterling?"
I opened my mouth to explain, but Arthur's arm slid around my waist, pulling me against his side.
"My grandmother is fond of Elara," he said simply, neither confirming nor denying the relationship.
Fiona recovered quickly, her eyes narrowing with calculation. "How... unexpected. Elara never mentioned being married, let alone to someone so distinguished." Her tone suggested I was hiding something shameful.
"Not everyone feels the need to broadcast their personal life," Arthur replied coldly.
Mrs. Sterling was watching the exchange with interest. "Young lady, is there a reason you're speaking to my granddaughter-in-law in that tone? Do you know her?"
Fiona's smile tightened. "Oh yes, we know each other very well. Elara is my stepsister, though I use the term loosely. She's not really family, you see. Just the illegitimate daughter of my father's mistress."
The boutique fell silent. Arthur's arm tightened around my waist as I stiffened at the public humiliation.
Mrs. Sterling's expression darkened. "Is that so? And you think that gives you the right to speak to her disrespectfully in my presence?"
Fiona faltered. "I only meant—"
"I know exactly what you meant," Mrs. Sterling cut her off. "In my day, young women knew better than to air family laundry in public. It shows a remarkable lack of breeding." She turned to Alistair. "And you. You allow your daughter to behave this way?"
Alistair looked deeply uncomfortable. "Mrs. Sterling, I apologize if Fiona has—"
"Wait," he suddenly interrupted himself, peering more closely at the old woman. "Mrs. Sterling? Eleanor Sterling? Of the Sterling Group?"
Mrs. Sterling raised an imperious eyebrow. "The very same."
The color drained from Alistair's face as he realized they had just insulted the wife of his stepdaughter in front of one of the most powerful women in Oceanion—the very person whose favor they had come to curry.