Chapter 6 6
|| Author's Pov ||
The night had settled like a velvet cloak over the Volcov mansion. The faint rustle of leaves swayed in the gentle breeze, mingling with the distant hum of the city beyond the estate’s walls.
Inside, the lights of the bedroom were dim, casting long, sharp shadows across the room where Alice quietly folded the laundry, the rhythmic motion calming her restless mind.
Nick emerged from the bathroom, his hair damp and droplets of water glistening along his jawline. He moved with that lazy, entitled air, checking his phone as if it were a lifeline.
His eyes flicked briefly toward Alice as she worked, noting the slight curve of her back, the soft glow of her hair in the low light.
For a fleeting moment, a thought stirred, maybe she was pretty, after all but it vanished instantly behind the shield of his arrogance. He scowled, the thought displeased him. He shifted to the edge of the bed, tapping his phone.
Alice continued folding the clothes with meticulous care, trying not to draw attention to herself.
Her small hands smoothed the fabric over and over, her fingers trembling slightly, betraying the tension she carried in her chest. When she finally finished, she hesitated, then looked up at her husband, fidgeting with her fingers nervously.
The air felt thick, heavy with the unsaid.
Alice took a hesitant step toward the bed, her movements small and careful. Her heart beat loudly, a timid drum against her ribs, as if it feared the moment his eyes might meet hers again.
They did. Nick glanced up, his eyes sweeping over her briefly. Instead of warmth, there was only dismissal, a scoff escaped his lips. Alice’s throat tightened. Her small, innocent eyes held both fear and a desperate longing for approval.
Her legs trembled as she lowered herself onto the bed, keeping as much distance between them as she could. Her hands folded delicately on her lap, and she lowered her gaze. For a brief moment, there was silence.
Then, as if to shatter the fragile calm entirely, Nick shifted slightly as if to keep distance from his wife, his eyes locked with Alice. The coldness in his gaze was sharp, cutting through her like ice.
“Don’t ever try to come close to me,” Nick barked, voice harsh. “I don’t even consider you my wife. You’re nothing.”
Alice’s heart seemed to stop midbeat. The words fell like stones, heavy and unyielding. Her lips quivered and tears welled up instantly, pooling at the corners of her eyes. She didn’t sob aloud, there was no safety in noise when he was near. Her breaths hitched, chest tight with the ache of a heart being torn slowly, deliberately.
Nick’s scoff echoed again through the quiet room. He turned away, absorbed once more in the glowing screen of his phone, indifferent to the silent collapse of the woman before him.
Alice’s small hands clutched the blanket on the bed. She couldn’t stay. She couldn’t remain in the same room with him, the same room where she had once dreamed of happiness and warmth, now reduced to a cage of cold words and rejection.
“I’ll… I’ll sleep on the couch.” Alice whispered with her blurry vision.
Without waiting for his response, which she knew wouldn’t come, Alice rose. Her small frame moved carefully, almost gliding, out of the room. She stepped lightly past the hallway, past the echoing emptiness of the mansion, and made her way into the garden.
The night air hit her face, crisp and sharp against her tear-streaked cheeks. She burst into tears. Her hands rested on the rough bark of a tree, and she pressed her forehead against it as her sobs broke free. This time, she let herself feel the pain fully, the grief of betrayal and loneliness spilling from her heart.
She cried openly, shivering against the cold night, her body folding into itself as if to disappear.
Then came the sound of a throat clearing, quiet, but enough to make her stiffen instantly.
Her hands flew to her cheeks, wiping at the fresh tears, and she spun around. Tristian stood a few feet away, dressed in a black shirt with sleeves rolled up, a faint smoke curling from the cigarette between his fingers.
His eyes, shadowed under the moonlight, were fixed on her, highlighting the coldness in his eyes. He was massive, every line of his body exuding authority, power, and danger. The dark silhouette of his frame against the soft garden lights made her small figure seem even more fragile.
Alice froze. She immediately looked down, ready to walk away. But before she could, his deep voice stopped her.
But before she could escape, Tristian’s long, strong hand shot out. He caught her by the arm, spinning her gently yet firmly into his chest. His other arm wrapped around her back, holding her against the rough bark of the tree. She was trapped, not harshly, not violently, but with undeniable control.
His presence was overwhelming. He watched her quietly, his cold eyes assessing and hard.
“What are you doing out here, Alice?”
She shook her head quickly, forcing a faint smile. “N-nothing… I just— I couldn’t sleep.”
“Alice…” he said softly, almost a growl under his breath. “What happened?” he insisted.
Alice shook her head violently, trying to push herself away. “N-nothing… I’m fine.”
Tristian didn’t move closer, yet his aura pressed down on her like a storm about to break. His gloved fingers lifted her chin gently, tilting her face toward him. “Alice… tell me,” he insisted, his voice low and intimate.
Her name on his tongue feels magically alluring.
Alice’s petite lips pressed into a thin line. She couldn’t. She couldn’t tell him. No one could know the cruelty that Nick had inflicted, the sharpness of his words that cut through her heart. She couldn’t bear for Tristian, her brother-in-law, her family to see her weakness.
Instead, Alice kept her gaze down, hands clenching at her sides, body trembling in his hold.
Tristian leaned closer, just enough to brush a thumb across her cheek, wiping away the remaining tears. His touch was almost painfully gentle, and Alice’s breath hitched at the intimacy of it. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and a small, involuntary shiver ran through her.
“Talk to me, Alice,” he whispered, his voice threading through the night like a warning and a promise at once. “You don’t have to bear this alone.”
She swallowed hard, chest tight, and shook her head once more. “I… Nothing,” she said quietly. “Please, don’t ask me.”
He said quietly. “Did he… say something again?”
Her lips trembled. She looked up at him, those deep eyes studying her like they could see everything she tried to hide.
“N-no, I just… needed some air.”
Tristian’s jaw clenched, and for a long second, neither of them spoke. Only the sound of the rustling leaves and her uneven breaths filled the silence.
He finally sighed and looked away, flicking the cigarette aside. “He doesn’t deserve those tears,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.
Tristian’s eyes blackened even more. There was anger there, barely contained, molten beneath the surface. Anger at Nick, at the world, at the cruelty she was enduring. But there was also something else, something more dangerous: protectiveness. A low, silent vow that no one would hurt her while he was around.
He didn’t move closer again. He let the space between them remain, giving her room, even as he held her against the tree. She was his sister in law after all. His thumb lingered softly against her temple, tracing the outline of her tears before he finally withdrew.
Alice took a trembling step back, brushing her hands over her cheeks, trying to compose herself. Her eyes were red and swollen, “I… I should go,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Tristian smirked slightly, a corner of his lips lifting with an expression that was half amusement, half something darker. “You’re impossible, little sister-in-law,” he said, using the formal title that made her stomach twist.
Alice flinched at the sound of it but gave a polite nod, careful not to meet his eyes for too long. She turned and walked away slowly, back toward the mansion, her heart still racing from his presence.
Tristian watched her leave, the cigarette still glowing between his fingers. His eyes followed her every step, dark and calculating. The anger at his brother, the fury at Nick’s cruelty, simmered silently beneath his composed exterior.
When she disappeared into the shadowed halls, he exhaled slowly, flicking the cigarette away. The smoke curled into the night air like a fleeting whisper, dissolving before it reached the ground.
Tristian stood there for a long moment, hands in his pockets, jaw tight, watching the garden where Alice had been moments before.
“She’s… too pure,” he murmured to himself, almost inaudibly. “Too innocent for this world.”
And yet, even as he thought it, a small, secret part of him couldn’t deny the way his chest tightened at the sight of her, even in tears, her vulnerability, her quiet strength, her beauty untouched by the cruelty of the man she called husband.
With one last glance toward the mansion, he turned and walked inside. “It’s going too far, now!”