Chapter 38 Ring
Bianca instinctively stepped back, her fingertips curling slightly.
She had crossed a line. She was standing in front of something clearly private, something she had no right to see.
Her mind raced. Should she pretend she had seen nothing and quietly slip away, or should she admit what had happened before it became worse? The steady sound of approaching footsteps made the decision for her.
Her body went rigid. She turned sharply.
Terrence was standing in the doorway, dressed in a deep charcoal loungewear set. Without his usual tailored suit and sunglasses, some of his sharp edges seemed softened, but those eyes, dark and steady, were fixed on her and the open entrance behind her.
His face revealed nothing. The calmness was unnerving.
Bianca's pulse jumped. She spoke quickly, the faint tremor in her voice betraying her. "Terrence, I wasn't trying to pry into your secrets. I was just tidying your desk and accidentally triggered something. I'll leave right now."
She lowered her gaze, intending to walk past him, but his hand closed gently around her wrist.
His palm was warm, his grip light, yet firm enough to stop her in place.
"What's the rush?" His voice was low, unreadable, but there was no trace of anger.
Instead of releasing her, he turned her toward the hidden room.
"If you've already seen it, you might as well take a look."
Her head lifted in surprise, her eyes meeting his. He was willing? He didn't mind her seeing this? More than that, he was inviting her in.
Terrence guided her forward, step by step, into the secret space.
It wasn't what she had imagined. No dim, cold chamber filled with classified documents. No ominous shadows. Instead, the space was modest in size and almost warm.
Soft light spilled from wall sconces, casting a gentle glow over the room. Against one wall stood a solid wood bookshelf, its edges worn with age. Beside it was a single, inviting armchair and a small table, upon which sat a simple tea set.
The most striking feature was a glass display cabinet at the far end, holding an assortment of objects, some seemingly random, others impossible to identify.
It felt less like a vault and more like a private retreat, a place that belonged entirely to Terrence.
"This place?" she asked softly.
"I used to come here as a kid, when I wanted peace," he said, his gaze sweeping over the old items. "Later it became a habit. I kept it as a space that was completely mine."
He led her to the glass cabinet, pulled a small antique brass key from his pocket, and unlocked the door.
He didn't touch the scattered keepsakes. Instead, he reached for a velvet box tucked discreetly at the back. Opening it, he revealed a ring.
It was an elegant piece, timeless in design. A deep ocean-blue sapphire sat at its center, encircled by a halo of brilliant diamonds. The platinum band was carved with intricate patterns, carrying the quiet dignity of something passed down through generations.
"Give me your hand," Terrence said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Bianca instinctively offered her right hand.
He shook his head gently, took her left hand instead, and slid the ring onto her fourth finger.
It fit perfectly.
The cool metal warmed against her skin, the sapphire shimmering with a depth that seemed to draw in the light.
"This is the Anderson family's heirloom for the mistress of the household," Terrence said, his eyes steady on hers. "It symbolizes authority and responsibility within the family. Grandmother sent it over the day I decided to take you to get our marriage license."
His thumb brushed over the gem. "If you don't like the style, we can have our wedding rings made to your taste."
His gaze held hers, unwavering. "What kind of wedding do you want? I don't want you to feel that being with me means settling for less, or that you can't even have a proper wedding."
Her heart tightened, a mix of sweetness and ache rising in her chest.
In another life, he had given her this same ring. Back then, she had been bitter, resentful. She had thought the design old-fashioned, unworthy of her taste. She had thrown it aside in front of him.
Now, standing here, she saw the truth. He had opened his most private space to her, handed her the symbol of his family's legacy, and even considered her preferences, afraid she might feel wronged.
This man, who seemed cold and unyielding to the world, was giving her everything he knew how to give, in the only way he could.
"No," Bianca said, shaking her head, her voice trembling but clear. "I don't feel wronged at all."
She rose on her toes, looped her arms around his neck, and pressed her lips to his.
Terrence stiffened for a heartbeat, then his arm slid around her waist, his touch firm yet careful, returning the kiss with restrained warmth.
The room was silent except for the mingled sound of their breathing.
When the kiss broke, Bianca rested her forehead against his, her eyes shimmering but her smile radiant. "I love the ring. No need to change it. As for the wedding…"
She leaned into him, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "Simple and warm will be perfect. As long as you're there, any wedding will be the best."
Terrence's arms tightened, drawing her closer. His chin rested lightly atop her head. "Alright," he murmured.
That night, Bianca's belongings were moved into Terrence's master bedroom.
The vast black-toned space gained a subtle softness, a quiet sign that it was no longer his alone.
After washing up, Bianca lay on the wide bed in a silk nightdress. Beside her was Terrence, his presence cool and steady.
They kept a small distance between them. The air felt charged, yet calm.
She could sense the tension in him. His eyes were closed, but his breathing told her he was far from asleep.
Bianca knew he was holding back. They were married now. He had every right to claim her as his wife, yet he chose respect, chose to give her time.
Slowly, she shifted closer, inch by inch, until she could reach his hand. She wrapped her fingers gently around his.
His hand flinched, then closed over hers, firm enough to speak of something restrained.
"Sleep," he said, his voice rough.
She didn't push further. "Alright. Good night, Terrence."
"Good night."
Wrapped in the familiar safety of his presence, Bianca drifted into sleep.
Terrence stayed still until her breathing had settled into a slow, even rhythm. Only then did he exhale quietly, turn slightly toward her, and watch her in the pale moonlight.
At last, he brought their joined hands to his chest, holding them there as he closed his eyes.