wake up married 7

Jonathan’s gaze darkened, a storm brewing deep within. His fingers hovered over the message, ready to erase it, when the door creaked open behind him. Natalie stepped into view, her eyes soft with something like expectation, and she moved toward him without hesitation. The room was cloaked in muted grays, the colors heavy and oppressive, like the walls themselves were closing in. Natalie’s eyes flicked around, and she immediately disliked the sterile, lifeless decor. She’d need to change it. Above the bed, their wedding photo hung, but it struck her all at once: no, it should be a picture of their whole family—of all four of them, together. It was late, and Natalie moved to the wardrobe to change, but as she opened it, her gaze froze. There wasn’t a single piece of her clothing inside. “We’ve been married six years, and we’ve always slept separately,” Jonathan’s voice sliced through the quiet. Cold, detached. “Your clothes aren’t here.” He stood there in a robe, the dim light casting shadows over his broad chest, the lines of his collarbone sharp, the muscles beneath subtly defined. Natalie swallowed, heat rushing to her face despite herself. How had she spent six years sharing a room with a man who looked like this—and not shared a bed with him? It felt like an absurd waste. “Can we … not sleep apart anymore? It’s getting colder, and I’m afraid I’ll freeze,” she said, her voice softening, almost teasing. Her gaze lingered on his chest, imagining the warmth of it, how it might feel beneath her fingertips. Jonathan’s expression remained unreadable, his voice flat. “Your room has heating.” “The air’s too dry. It makes my skin tight, gives me headaches.” “There’s a humidifier.” He shut her down again, but this time Natalie raised two fingers in the air, as if swearing an oath. “Don’t worry. I promise, I’m just here to sleep. Nothing more.” The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, like the weight of a thousand unspoken words. Something had shifted in Natalie since waking up from the hospital. She was alive again, vibrant, a stark contrast to the woman she had been. And in this moment, she reminded Jonathan of the Nat he had once adored. “If you don’t object,” she said quickly, already moving toward the door, “I’ll take that as your consent. I’m going to get my things now.” Before she could leave, Jonathan handed her his phone. He could’ve kept it from her, could’ve deleted Jacques’ message without a second thought. But there was something in him, something reckless, that wanted to gamble. Would she choose Jacques? Or would she choose him? Natalie took the phone, wordlessly, and the moment her eyes landed on Jacques’ name, a twist of unease curled in her stomach. “Jonathan, you go ahead and sleep. I’ve got some things to take care of.” She turned and walked out, the engine of her car roaring to life as she pulled away. Jonathan watched her retreating figure, his heart heavy, the flicker of hope that had risen inside him now snuffed out. Was she really that eager to meet Jacques at the hotel? The answer was painfully clear. She’d always choose Jacques. No exceptions. No second thoughts. In the quiet of the night, a small hand tapped Jonathan’s broad shoulder, a soft, almost hesitant gesture. He turned slowly. Christopher was there, standing on a small stool, his eyes heavy with something Jonathan couldn’t quite place. “Jonathan,” Christopher murmured, his voice low, rough. “I told you. Natalie lies. She can’t be trusted.” Jonathan didn’t respond. His silence spoke volumes, but beneath it, something darker stirred. Jealousy. Envy. A storm, quiet but growing. … At the hotel, the suite was cold, almost clinical in its starkness. The air felt thin, empty. Jacques stood there, irritation etched across his face. “Natalie, give me your daughter,” he ordered, his voice sharp, impatient. She was late—an hour. His patience had worn thin. Natalie didn’t flinch. She knew exactly what he was after. “Jacques, if you’ve got issues, go see a shrink. Why the hell would I hand my daughter over to you? Just because you’ve got muscles and no brains?” Jacques’ lips twisted in a sneer. “Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be. This is important to me, Natalie.” He had his plans. Big ones. If he could land the deal with the Oracle of Stocks, it would be a game-changer. No more struggling. No more sneering whispers. He’d rise—really rise. A man of power. No one would dare mock him for riding the coattails of a woman. Natalie’s voice was as cold as the space between them. “Not my problem.” Jacques moved closer, his grip suddenly firm on her arm. “All you have to do is hand Yvonne over to me. Tonight, I’ll sleep with you. It’s a fair deal.” He was sure of it. She wouldn’t refuse. He knew her well—always eager, always willing to please. Natalie was stunning. No question about it. Regalia’s top noblewoman. Beauty, brains, and the kind of name that turned heads. Sleeping with her wasn’t just a win—it was a prize. It wasn’t a bad deal, sleeping with her. The thought of her plan crept into Natalie’s mind, but she fought the urge to slap him. “Aren’t you worried Jonathan will get mad?” Jacques barely glanced at her. “Afraid of what? The second you start threatening to off yourself, Jonathan will roll over like a dog and do whatever I say.” Who would’ve thought the mighty Mr. Hyperion, perched at the top of the world, would one day be nothing more than a toy in his hands? The insult to Jonathan was the last straw. Natalie’s hand flew, a slap that rang through the air and sent Jacques reeling, stars bursting in his vision. He opened his mouth to snap back, but then he saw it. Natalie’s eyes, hard and determined. “Fine. I’ll do it your way.” Jacques frowned, completely thrown off. She had just spent the last few minutes tearing him down, making him the villain of every insult. Now, out of nowhere, she was agreeing? His mind fogged with desire. The strange shift barely registered as he yanked his shirt off, eager to move things along. “Go take a shower. I’ll get ready,” Natalie said, her voice sharp, her back already turned. Her words were cold, like steel. Looking at him made her skin crawl. “You’re a bit of a diva,” Jacques laughed, stepping into the bathroom. Natalie’s gaze stayed fixed on the bathroom door, her eyes like ice. “Jacques,” she whispered, just loud enough for herself to hear. “I hope you’re still laughing when this is over.” Jacques came out of the bathroom only to be met with a chamber shrouded in darkness. A pair of hands circled him from behind, and he felt his towel sliding off his body. The woman went on and started kissing his body like he was a god. “You’ve always been the reserved type, Natalie. But now look at you, nothing more than a common whore.” The woman kissed him again and pushed him onto the bed. He didn’t need to do anything. The woman’s thirst for sex drove her forward. Something felt off, but desire had overtaken Jacques’ mind. The woman was not letting up either. Natalie was already gone, of course. Back downstairs, she was in her car, making a call. “Hello? Yes, I’d like to make a report. It’s about prostitution.” She then hung up and texted Courtney. She was kind that way. And then loud beeps followed. The wail of sirens never stopped, cutting through the night like a blade. Police cars screeched to a halt outside the hotel, their tires skidding to a stop with a fury. It looked like every officer in the city had descended on this place. She’d made a single phone call. How had it all escalated this quickly? A swarm of officers stormed into Jacques’s room. The moment the lights flickered on, they sliced through the darkness, blinding him. The woman still clung to him, swaying, a look of insatiable hunger on her face. As his vision slowly returned, his stomach dropped. It wasn’t Natalie. It was a grotesque, middle-aged woman with a face that made him recoil. “What the hell? Who the hell are you?” The thought of what he’d just done with her made him gag, his stomach churning with disgust. The officers slapped the cold steel of handcuffs around his wrists. “Mr. Fourside, we’ve received a report accusing you of illegal transactions. You’re coming with us.” Courtney arrived just as the chaos unfolded. She froze in the doorway, eyes wide. There, in full view, was Jacques—handcuffed and completely naked. Her gaze shifted to the middle-aged woman standing beside him. Her fury ignited like wildfire. She lunged forward, fists flying at Jacques. “God, you’re pathetic!” Meanwhile, Natalie had found the perfect vantage point. Leaning back with a bag of sunflower seeds, she watched it all unfold. Jacques was being dragged out by the police, while Courtney chased him down, cursing and slapping him. This was only the beginning. Natalie snapped picture after picture, sending them to reporters and the media, before strolling out of the hotel like she had all the time in the world. Inside the police car, the operation leader’s fingers moved quickly over his phone. He dialed a number, his expression serious, the weight of his mission pressing down on him. When the call connected, his voice dropped into a tone of quiet respect. “Mr. Hyperion, we’ve arrested Jacques as instructed. But we’ve searched every room in the hotel, and there’s no sign of Mrs. Hyperion.” The call ended, and as he slipped the phone back into his pocket, he saw her. Natalie was walking back to the house, her posture almost light. She seemed … pleased. Had it been Jacques? Was that what made her so satisfied? “Jonathan, waiting for me?” she called out, her eyes catching his in the lobby. “It’s late … let’s go to bed.” “I’m sleeping in the study,” Jonathan’s voice was cool, distant. He turned and headed upstairs, the heavy thud of the study door slamming behind him. Natalie stood still, a frown tugging at her lips. Was he … upset? Then came the knock. She opened the door. Jonathan was at the desk, his back rigid. She placed a steaming cup of lemon tea on the desk surface. “To cool you off,” she said softly, her voice low and careful. Jonathan’s gaze never left her. His tone was colder than she expected “This … I think Jacques needs it more than I do.” Her pulse quickened. “Did you see the text on my phone?” His stare was a frozen blade. The silence stretched long enough for her to feel the weight of it. “I didn’t do anything with Jacques. I went to see him to send him to prison.” Her words hung in the air, a firm declaration. The meeting? A mere part of her plan. Nothing more. “Don’t be mad, honey,” she purred, walking toward him. She settled on his lap, her arms winding around his neck. She kissed his cheek softly. The shift in his body was instant. His muscles went rigid beneath her, like stone. Without warning, he grabbed her, yanking her up with a swift motion, and the door to the study slammed shut behind them with a heavy, final bang. It took Natalie a few moments to truly grasp what had just happened. Had she really just been … thrown out? She puffed her cheeks out, the sting of her daughter’s words echoing in her mind. She muttered under her breath, “Easy to cheer up? As if.” Her finger lingered on her lips, a smirk creeping onto her face. “Well, guess I didn’t lose everything. Six years of being the wicked wife, and now, Mr. Perfect’s giving me some attention. Maybe one day I’ll get him into bed.” Meanwhile, in the study, Jonathan stood frozen before the mirror, his eyes clouded, lost in thought. The love he thought was dead surged back, wild and untamed inside him. Nat … had kissed him? The last time, six years ago, had been a fall from grace. But tonight? Tonight was different. Was it a trick? Or had she really … started to love him? His phone rang, snapping him from his thoughts. It was Jeremiah Milsaw, his good friend. “Jonathan, I just got out of prison. You won’t believe the news. “You know who made the anonymous tip tonight? Natalie. Not only did she make the call, but she found some ugly middle-aged woman to force Jacques into six rounds of … well, you know. The guy’s not just lost his dignity, he’s in jail now. He’s screwed. What the hell happened to Natalie? How did she go from blind to seeing all of a sudden?” Jonathan stood there, the words landing like blows. Natalie hadn’t lied. He told Jeremiah everything—the change he’d seen in her, what had happened that night. Jeremiah’s voice crackled with disbelief. “You turned her down? That’s a first! She used to stab you, and you didn’t even move. What’s going on, man? You really sticking with this divorce?” Jonathan didn’t answer. When she stabbed him, he didn’t flinch because he was afraid she’d hurt herself. As for turning her down tonight? It was because he feared he’d lose control—like six years ago—and end up consuming her, taking everything from her in a frenzy. The silence on the other end of the line stretched long. After a beat, Jeremiah sighed. “Oh, and by the way, my sister somehow found out you’re looking for a nutritionist. She dropped everything—couldn’t even finish her studies—and flew back from Micana. She’ll be at your place tomorrow.”