Chapter 187 CHAPTER 187
The widow’s whisper
The afternoon light slid through the mansion windows in soft, uneven stripes, landing across the living room like pale ribbons. Tessa sat on the long sofa that used to belong to Marcus, the cushions still carrying faint traces of his cologne, cedar, musk, and that silent authority he wore like armor.
The house had become quieter over the past weeks, not because grief was gentle, but because it was heavy. Heavy enough to drag conversations down to slow beats and leave every room with an echo.
Ayisha stood by the large glass window, her eyes tracing the driveway even though nobody was expected at that hour. She had been pacing for almost an hour, restless the way some people got when they were thinking too hard and the thoughts were starting to scratch from the inside. Tessa watched her, one leg tucked beneath her, her fingers absent mindedly rubbing the hem of her shirt.
“You’re officially his widow now,” Ayisha said finally, turning from the window. Her voice was calm, too calm, the way people sounded when they had prepared a speech in their head before delivering it. “Marcus is gone. Buried. The mourning rites are over. And whether you like it or not, that comes with power.”
Tessa blinked slowly. “Ayisha…”
“No, listen to me.” Ayisha moved closer, lowering herself onto the couch beside her. “You were his wife. His legal wife. Everything he built… everything he owned… all those houses, lands, businesses, accounts—Tess, they belong to you now.”
Tessa let out a long sigh, her shoulders sinking as if someone had placed invisible weights on them. “I don’t want any of that,” she murmured. “I didn’t even want to be his wife in the beginning. And now, now everything is so messy. My mind is everywhere. I don’t want people to think I’m grabbing his things.”
“It isn’t grabbing,” Ayisha insisted. “It’s your right. Marcus married you. Not a side chic. Not a mistress. You were the woman he put his ring on. Everything he owned now belongs to you and your children.”
Tessa’s eyes lifted slightly at the mention of her children, though her lips pressed together as though the very thought pulled both pain and confusion through her chest.
Ayisha leaned forward, lowering her voice. “You’ve suffered your whole life. You’ve been tossed around by everyone, men, family, strangers. Now there is a life changing opportunity, don’t throw that away.”
Tessa looked around the living room, her eyes taking in the fine marble floors, the tall ceilings, the gold plated frame around the huge portrait of Marcus. Everything looked too neat, too cold, as though the house had been waiting for someone to claim it or destroy it.
“I’m not ready for this kind of life,” she whispered. “Marcus… his world was big. His enemies, his politics, his expectations. I’m just…”
“You’re not just anything,” Ayisha cut in. “You’re the widow of one of the most powerful men in the world. You can protect your children’s future with this. Make sure nobody ever touches them again. Make sure nobody ever humiliates you again. Take what belongs to you.”
Silence settled between them for a moment, thick and thoughtful. From outside came the faint sound of schoolchildren shouting a few blocks away, the usual afternoon rush. Tessa exhaled slowly, rubbing her forehead.
“The kids will soon come back,” she said. “They’ll be hungry. I told the cook to make spaghetti today. They’ve been craving it.” Her voice softened, drifting momentarily into something warm, something maternal. “I don’t want them to come home and see the house tense like this. They’ve been through enough.”
Ayisha nodded. “And that’s exactly why you need to step up, Tess. If you don’t take Marcus’ place, someone else will try to take it from you. You know how vultures gather when a man like him dies. His associates. His enemies. Even family members.”
Tessa’s brows knitted. “I don’t want trouble.”
“You don’t have a choice,” Ayisha replied firmly. “You’re already in the fire. You might as well learn how to walk through it.”
Tessa looked away, chewing on her lower lip. Her hands twisted together in her lap. Ayisha recognized that gesture, it was Tessa’s silent way of admitting she was scared. And vulnerable.
Just as Ayisha leaned closer to say more, a sudden gravel crunching sound echoed from the driveway. Not one car. Several. Heavy engines. Doors slamming. The sharp click of leather shoes hitting pavement.
Both women turned sharply toward the window.
Ayisha stood first. “Who is that?” she whispered, her voice tightening with suspicion.
Tessa rose slowly, her pulse kicking into a faster rhythm. “I—I wasn’t expecting anybody.”
Ayisha stepped toward the window, sliding two fingers between the curtains for a better view. What she saw made her inhale sharply.
“Tessa… get up.”
Tessa was already standing, though her feet felt numb. “What? Who is it?”
“It’s…” Ayisha’s voice caught. “Ares.”
Tessa froze.
Ayisha pushed the curtain wider. “And he’s not alone.”
Down the driveway, Ares walked with a rigid, authoritative stride, flanked by five sharply dressed men in black suits. Their briefcases gleamed. Their expressions were clipped, focused, official.
And Tessa recognized the emblem on their lapel pins. She had seen it in Marcus’ office, on documents, on sealed envelopes. Marcus’ legal team.
His father’s lawyers.
They were not ordinary visitors. They did not make casual stops. They only came for one purpose, matters of inheritance, transfer of power, declarations, wills.
Tessa’s stomach dropped.
“No. No, no…” she whispered, backing up slightly. “Ayisha… why is he here with lawyers?”
Ayisha let the curtain fall back into place, her entire face stiffening in alarmed disbelief. “Tess… they came to read the will.”
Tessa felt her ribs tighten. Her knees weakened. “But… Marcus never told me…he never said anything about—why today? Why now?”
Ayisha placed a steadying hand on her arm. “We need to stay calm. Don’t let him see you rattled.”
Tessa opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, the doorbell rang once, sharp, commanding.
Ayisha squeezed her hand. “Stand straight.”
Tessa swallowed hard and wiped her palms on her dress. She moved toward the door, each step feeling heavier than the last. She opened it.
Ares stood there, taller than she remembered, colder than she expected, darker around the eyes as if he had been living in the shadow of nights without sleep. He didn’t greet her. He barely looked at her, his gaze fixed into the distance like a man with a purpose far larger than the people in front of him.
“Good afternoon,” he said, voice clipped and formal, as though they had never shared history, pain, or a world of complicated memories.
Behind him, the lawyers stood in a line, one stepped forward, clearing his throat politely.
“Mrs. Tessa Marcus,” he said, holding a thick sealed brown envelope bearing Marcus’ crest. “We are here by instruction to execute the final will and testament of the late Marcus Langford.”
Ayisha felt her breath catch. Tessa felt the world tilt. Ares stepped aside slightly, his hands behind his back, expression carved from stone.
The lawyer continued:
“We will begin immediately.”