0014

0014
    “Call Drew! Call my son! Where is Drew?!”
    Gratia’s voice was raw with agony as she collapsed into the arms of a trembling maid, her wails piercing through the heavy silence. The weight of her grief was suffocating, thick enough to steal the breath from the air.
    I stood frozen, my body unwilling to move. My mind refused to process what I was seeing. I had seen death before, my grandmother’s funeral had been somber yet peaceful. A body laid to rest in a coffin, dressed in dignity.
    This was different.
    This was suicide.
    Nadia’s lifeless eyes remained open, staring at nothing. Her skin was ashen under the dim lighting, the heavy red curtains casting eerie shadows across the room. My stomach twisted violently, bile rising to my throat as I tore my gaze away.
    Beside me, Lucy stood motionless, her face drained of color.
    The air crackled with whispers and frantic murmurs blending into Gratia’s broken cries. Then, Lucy’s warm fingers wrapped around my wrist.
    “Come, sit,” she murmured, her grip steady despite the slight tremor in her touch.
    I let her lead me downstairs. My legs barely carried me as we entered the kitchen. The moment I sank onto a chair, the trembling in my hands worsened. My entire body felt cold, like my very blood had turned to ice.
    What is happening?
    What have I signed myself into?
    What kind of family is this?
    “Ma’am, you’re shaking,” Lucy said softly, her concern evident in her voice.
    I let out a shaky breath, gripping the edge of the chair. “Lucy… I’ve never seen something like this before.” The words barely made it out. “Where is Alexander? Where is Drew?” Panic gripped my chest, my mind latching onto anything solid. Where the hell was Drew when Nadia was hanging herself?
    Lucy replaced my tiger-print jacket with a warm blanket before setting a glass of water in front of me. “You should drink,” she urged.
    I shook my head. “I’m not thirsty.” My voice was barely above a whisper. “I just saw—” I swallowed hard.
    Lucy’s expression darkened. “We’re all shaken too. The authorities will be here soon.”
    As if on cue, footsteps echoed through the mansion. A team of men in dark uniforms strode past, their presence heavy with authority. I watched them disappear upstairs.
    To retrieve the body.
    Gratia’s cries still rang through the estate, raw and guttural. I had never seen her like this before—an iron-willed, calculating woman shattered beyond recognition.
    She had loved Nadia.
    And I… I barely knew her. But she had been kind to me, and that alone told me she didn’t deserve to die. Not like this.
    A deep voice cut through the tension.
    “Madam.”
    I stiffened.
    Turning slowly, I found myself facing a tall man with sharp green eyes and blonde hair. Dressed in all black. Leather pants and a fitted jacket, he exuded quiet authority. He studied me carefully, taking in my pale complexion and trembling hands.
    “Sorry to disturb you,” he said, his tone firm yet measured. He gestured toward Lucy, who quickly retrieved a bottle of water from the refrigerator. When she offered it to him, he declined with a small shake of his head.
    “I need to speak with you, Mrs. Blackwood.”
    I swallowed hard.
    “Yes?” My voice wavered as I clutched the blanket around my shoulders.
    “I know this is overwhelming,” he continued, his gaze unwavering. “But I have to ask you a few questions for investigation purposes. Where were you before this incident? What were you doing?”
    His words barely registered as my throat drifted to
    Nadia’s naked body. Hanging.
    I swayed as I stood, reaching out for balance. The moment his fingers brushed mine—
    Darkness.
    I collapsed.
    A faint creak of a door opening and closing filtered through my hazy consciousness. My eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim glow of my bedside lamp.
    I was back in my room.
    The clock on the nightstand read just after six. The events replayed in my mind like a nightmare. The lifeless body. The suffocating grief. The overwhelming weight of it all.
    A quiet noise made me turn sharply.
    Alexander.
    He stood at the door, hands clasped behind his back. For once, he wasn’t in his usual crisp suits. Instead, he wore dark pants and a plain black shirt. It was unsettling seeing him like this. Almost… normal.
    He walked toward me. “I heard you fainted. Are you okay?”
    His voice was lower than usual, his tone lacking its usual edge. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing back the strands that had fallen over his forehead.
    I tried to sit up, but the moment I moved, sharp pain shot through my skull. A groan escaped my lips as I collapsed back onto the bed.
    “Hey, not so fast.” Alexander pressed a hand to my shoulder, easing me down.
    His expression was unreadable, yet something about him felt… off. Like the man standing before me wasn’t the same cold businessman I had married.
    Tears welled in my eyes before I could stop them.
    Without hesitation, he pulled out a black handkerchief and gently dabbed at my damp cheeks. His fingers brushed my skin, and for the first time, I noticed the scent of soap lingering on them—like he had just washed his hands.
    “Hey, don’t cry now,” he murmured. “I just… I can’t stand it.”
    His voice was softer, hesitant, like he wasn’t used to comforting anyone but was trying anyway.
    I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Alex, I—I can’t do this anymore.”
    His hand stilled.
    His expression shifted, as if he were truly seeing me for the first time. “What do you mean?”
    “I can’t stay here.” My voice wavered. “I can’t pretend like this is normal. Like this isn’t completely wrong.”
    His jaw tensed. “You signed a contract, Isla.”
    The reminder cut deep.
    “Since I came here,” I whispered, “since I stepped into your world… I’ve never—never—experienced more—more—” I struggled to find the words.
    “More what?” Alexander’s eyes narrowed.
    My throat tightened.
    “Assault,” I forced out.
    His brow arched, his sharp gaze locking onto mine. “Who?”
    I hesitated, shifting under the duvet. Before I could move, his fingers curled under my chin, tilting my face toward him.
    “Tell me.” His voice was low, rough. “Was it Gratia? Did she put her hands on you again today?”
    I shook my head quickly. “No. It wasn’t her.”
    His expression darkened. “You’re lying. Did Drew touch you?”
    I flinched.
    “Can we not talk about this?” My voice cracked. “Someone just died, Alex.”
    The reality crashed over me again.
    “I’ve never seen something like that before in my life,” I whispered.
    Tears spilled down my cheeks, turning into silent sobs. To my utter shock, Alexander pulled me against him.
    His arms wrapped around me, steady and firm. He smelled like soap and something distinctly him—something familiar and distant at the same time.
    I clung to his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric.
    And for the first time, I let myself break.
    I sobbed until there was nothing left in me. Until exhaustion weighed down my body. Until silence settled between us.
    Then, just as I began to pull away, his voice murmured against my ear.
    “I know you have questions.”
    I stilled.
    His breath warmed my temple. “But, Isla… I can’t tell you anything.” His voice dropped lower. 
    My head snapped up. What?
    That was not what I expected him to say.
    “Someone just died, Alexander,” I bit out. “And that’s what you’re telling me?”
    He said nothing.
    “At least give me something,” I pleaded, frustration bubbling over.
    I pushed away, throwing the blanket off as I stood. My feet barely made it to my dressing room before I heard his footsteps behind me.
    He followed me.
    I reached for the door, but he caught my arm, stopping me mid-motion. His grip wasn’t rough, but firm enough that I couldn’t shake him off.
    “If you want,” he murmured, “I can book a flight for you. You can go somewhere. Get away for a while.”
    I scoffed, jerking my arm free. “I don’t want a vacation.”
    His lips curved slightly. “Oh, but you must. You’re my wife, after all.”
    My chest burned with anger. “I’m not your wife. I’m your contract wife.” The words came out sharp, edged with bitterness. “All because of your greed. Because of your inheritance.”
    His expression didn’t change.
    I shook my head. “I agreed to this for my mother. Not for you.” Then, narrowing my eyes, I demanded, “Why did you even visit her today anyways?”
    His brow furrowed. “Visit her?” His voice held genuine confusion. “I never went to see your mother.”
    I froze.
    “You want me to see her?” he asked. “Does she even know who I am? That we’re married? Did you tell her?”
    I barely heard him. My mind reeled.
    If Alex didn’t see her… then who did?
    My mother had mentioned someone. A man. She was sure of it.
    It wasn’t Alex? Then who—
    “I saw your girlfriend today,” I said suddenly.
    His expression flickered. “What?”
    “Celeste,” I said, watching him closely.
    He didn’t react the way I expected. No anger. No irritation. Instead, he stepped closer, his eyes locked onto mine. And then, without warning, his fingers curled gently around my arms.
    “You’ll need to attend the funeral, Isla.”
    The shift in topic threw me off.
    “I want you there,” he continued. “I’ll have the dress sent to your room tomorrow. If you need to go out, Orbot will take you.”
    His voice was even, controlled. But there was something unreadable in his gaze.
    “There’s something I have to do,” he added. “They need to examine Nadia’s body. I have to be there.”
    And then he did something he’d never done before.
    He leaned in.
    I stiffened, but he didn’t hesitate.
    His lips brushed my forehead a fleeting touch. Warm. Soft. Almost… comforting.
    Then he pulled away. Without a word, he turned and walked out.
    He didn’t close the door.
    I stood frozen in my dressing room, my pulse hammering as I watched him disappear through the bedroom doorway. 
    And for the first time, I felt it.
    Something about all of this was far more twisted than I could have ever imagined and i was entangled in it.
    That night, I couldn’t bring myself to leave my room. Every glance toward the door sent a shiver down my spine, as if Nadia’s ghost was lingering in the halls. The house felt eerily quiet, suffocating in a way it never had before.
    Lucy had volunteered to stay with me, and now she sat slumped in a chair opposite my bed, her head tilted at an awkward angle, mouth slightly open as she dozed off. A thin line of drool trickled from the corner of her lips, and despite everything, a small pang of pity tightened my chest.
    After Alexander left, I had checked the news.
    It was chaos.
    The Blackwoods were being ripped apart by the media who called them murderers, criminals, even cultists. One particularly unhinged article claimed the estate was haunted.
    These blogs were really milking it for cash.
    Most of the staff had already been dismissed, leaving only a handful like Lucy, a few others, and, of course, Orbot, the ever-present driver.
    It had been a crazy day. A really crazy day.
    I hadn’t gone downstairs, but I was sure Drew had returned by now. Not that I wanted to see him. Even though we were all grieving, my resentment toward him hadn’t faded in the slightest.
    “Lucy,” I whispered.
    She stirred but didn’t wake. Her head drooped further, and for a moment, I thought she might actually fall off the chair.
    “Huh?” she suddenly jolted awake, blinking rapidly. “I—I didn’t do anything!”
    I stifled a laugh as she hastily wiped at her mouth, her face scrunching in confusion.
    “Lucy, you’re dozing off. You should sleep on the bed with me.”
    Her eyes widened in horror. “Oh no, ma’am! I’ll be fine here.”
    I arched a brow. “Would you rather go back to the servants’ quarters?”
    She hesitated, then quickly shook her head. “Ma’am, I… I can’t even roam around the house. It’s too scary for me. I think I’d rather stay here.”
    I smiled, thankful for her presence.
    Standing, I stretched. “Would you like anything?”
    She shook her head. “No, ma’am. But do you need anything?”
    I sighed. “No, Lucy. I just need to use the bathroom.”
    I stepped into the bathroom and turned on the light, bracing myself before looking into the mirror.
    God.
    My face was a mess. Tear-streaked, my cheeks blotchy, my eyes swollen from crying.
    I had already changed into more comfortable pajamas. A soft button-up shirt and matching trousers, but exhaustion still clung to my body like a weight.
    Sighing, I splashed cold water on my face, trying to wash away some of the fatigue.
    Then, I stepped out of the bathroom—
    And froze.
    Alexander was in my room.
    And he was talking to Lucy.
    They both stiffened the moment they saw me, like I had caught them doing something they shouldn’t.
    Alexander stood a few feet away, his posture rigid, his expression unreadable. But Lucy…. Lucy looked… apologetic.
    Too apologetic.
    She quickly stepped back, head bowed.
    “Lucy, where are you going?” I asked, my voice sharp with unease.
    She hesitated, then whispered, “I’ve been dismissed, ma’am.”
    I frowned. “What? By who?”
    Alexander’s voice cut through the silence. “By me.”
    Lucy swallowed hard, casting me one last glance before scurrying toward the door.
    I turned to Alexander, my chest tightening. “What the hell was that?”
    He met my glare calmly. “You’re my wife, aren’t you?”
    I blinked. “And?”
    “I’ll be the one to comfort you.”
    A hollow laugh escaped my lips. “Comfort me? By firing the only person here who actually gives a damn about me?”
    “Lucy needs to leave for now,” he continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “The entire situation is spiraling on the internet. I don’t want anyone unrelated to this family staying in the house right now.”
    I scoffed. “She’s my helping hand! Who’s supposed to take care of me now? Who will—”
    “You’ll have everything you need,” he interrupted, voice firm. “There are still staff here. But Lucy should take a break.”
    His tone left no room for argument.
    Then, quieter, but no less commanding, he said, “Go to bed.”
    I glared at him, but I turned toward the bed anyway, expecting him to leave like he always did.
    But he didn’t.
    Instead, he stood there for a moment, watching me.
    “What now?” I muttered, exhausted from this conversation.
    Then, without a word he reached for the bottom of his shirt and shrugged it off, letting it slide to the floor in a careless heap.
    My breath caught at the sight of his naked perfectly sculptured chest.
    He walked around to the other side of the bed…my bed, and sank onto it, resting his head against the pillow.
    Then he turned to me, his nearly white irises gleaming under the dim light.
    “Well,” he murmured, stretching an arm behind his head, his lips curving slightly, “I guess I’ll be sleeping here tonight.”