Chapter 46 Blur of reflections
The drive was a silent blur. I sat in the backseat of the limousine, staring out the window. The city lights faded into the endless black of the countryside. Carson was beside me.
He tried to reach for my hand, but I pulled away. My eyes stayed fixed on the reflection of the car in front of us. Victoria’s car. It was a sleek black sedan, just like ours. A perfect match.
A few hours later, we pulled up to a grand estate. It was bigger than I remembered. A huge iron gate stood at the entrance. The gate swung open silently, and we drove in.
The mansion was a monstrous thing of brick and stone. It was a dark, brooding presence against the moonlit sky. It felt less like a home and more like a tomb. A cold dread settled in my stomach.
The car stopped. The driver got out and opened the door for us. I stepped out, my feet sinking into the soft gravel. The air was cold and still. The only sound was the crunch of our shoes on the path.
Victoria stepped out of her car. She looked at me, her eyes cold and sharp, then turned away.
She hooked her arm into Carson's. She didn't say a word to me.
“Welcome home, son,” she said to Carson, her voice a low murmur.
Carson looked at me, a flicker of apology in his eyes. I just looked away, my face a mask of indifference. He was a son coming home.
I was just a ghost, an uninvited guest. I felt like an intruder, a burden. He followed his mother into the mansion, leaving me to trail behind.
The inside was just as grand as the outside. A massive chandelier hung from the high ceiling. It cast a warm, golden light on the grand staircase and the polished marble floor.
Servants in black uniforms stood at attention. A few of them looked at me, their eyes filled with a quiet curiosity. I felt their gazes, a thousand tiny needles.
Victoria led the way. She walked with a purpose, her back straight. Carson followed her, his shoulders slumped. He looked tired. I was tired too. I just wanted to be alone. I wanted to be anywhere but here.
We stopped at the end of a long hallway. Victoria pointed to two doors. “These are your rooms. You can settle in. Dinner will be ready in an hour.”
She didn’t wait for a reply. She just turned and walked away. The sound of her heels clicking on the marble floor faded into the silence.
Carson looked at me, his eyes full of concern. He didn’t say anything. He just looked at me as if waiting for me to say something. But what was there to say?
I went into the room on the right. It was a massive room with a king-sized bed and a balcony overlooking the garden. A large window was in front of the bed, and a fireplace sat at the foot of it.
The room was decorated in shades of gray and white. It felt cold, sterile. It was a beautiful room, but it wasn't mine. It was a prison.
I walked over to the bed and sat down. The mattress was soft, but I couldn't relax. I was too on edge, too wary. I felt a thousand miles away from everything I knew. I was in the lion’s den, and I had no idea what to do.
A soft knock came at the door. I knew it was Carson. I didn’t answer. He knocked again, then pushed the door open slightly. “Annabel?” he said, his voice quiet.
I didn’t look at him. I just stared at the wall.
He came in and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“For what?” I asked. My voice was a monotone.
“For all of this. For the way my mother treated you.”
I finally looked at him. “What did you expect? She hates me. She blames me for everything.”
“She’ll come around. She just needs time.”
I scoffed. “No, she won’t. She’ll never accept me. I’m a threat to her. I’m a reminder of everything she’s lost.”
He reached for my hand again, and this time, I didn't pull away. He held it tightly, his thumb stroking my knuckles. “She doesn’t matter. We’re in this together. We’ll get through it.”
“I don’t know if I can do this, Carson,” I said. My voice was a whisper. “I don’t know if I can pretend everything is okay. I don’t know if I can be here, in this house, with them.”
“You don’t have to pretend. Just be yourself. I’ll be with you every step of the way. I promise.”
I looked at him. He was a stranger in this place. A stranger in his own home. He was trying to be strong for me, but I could see the cracks in his facade. He was just as lost as I was.
“I’ll let you be,” he said, letting go of my hand. “Just… rest. I’ll be in the next room if you need anything.”
He got up and walked out of the room. The door closed behind him with a quiet click. I sat there for a long time. The silence in the room was deafening.
It was a silence filled with all the things I couldn't say, all the fears I couldn't voice. I was in this with him. I had to be. But I wasn't sure if I could survive it.
The clock on the mantelpiece in my room ticked on, each second a tiny, sharp pinprick in the silence.
The light outside the window began to fade, the last vestiges of twilight giving way to the deep purple of the evening. I got up from the bed and walked over to the balcony doors.
I slid them open and stepped outside, a shiver running through me as the cold air hit my skin.
The garden below was a manicured expanse of perfect hedges and flowerbeds, but in the dim light, it looked like a labyrinth designed to trap me. A stone fountain stood in the center, a silent, unmoving sentinel.
The mansion was an imposing presence behind me, its windows like a hundred watchful eyes. I felt a suffocating sense of being watched, of being judged. Every shadow held a secret, every creak in the floorboards was a whisper of a past I didn't know.
My own reflection stared back at me in the glass of the window, a pale, haunted face I barely recognized. The girl who had laughed freely and loved without fear felt a million miles away.