Chapter 15

Chapter 15
The two maids led Anna into the bedroom she would be sharing with Henry. The moment she stepped inside, her breath hitched.

It was... breathtaking.

The bed was enormous, like something from a royal palace—white sheets tucked neatly, gold threads glinting in the fabric. Thick velvet curtains framed the windows, and the sunlight spilling through lit the marble floor like glass. A plush rug lay beside the bed, soft enough to sleep on. The room smelled faintly of roses and something expensive she couldn’t name.

She walked in slowly, her fingers brushing the polished dresser, the gold-edged mirror, the smooth closet doors. Opening them revealed a walk-in closet that looked like a boutique. The bathroom was glass and gold, with warm lighting, folded towels, and a tub big enough to swim in.

It was too much.

Her heart swelled and her throat tightened. For a second, she just stood in the middle of it all and turned in a slow, quiet circle—trying to believe this was real.

A smile tugged at her lips.

She sat on the bed and pulled out her phone. Her fingers moved fast, muscle memory guiding her to a hidden folder she hadn’t opened in months.

Inside were dozens of pictures.

All of them were of one man.

Henry Duke.

Her eyes lingered on the first photo—one from an old article, years ago. His jawline was sharp, his smile just a little arrogant. She touched the screen like she used to, gently tracing the curve of his cheek.

“He doesn’t even know,” she whispered.

She remembered the very first time she saw him.

She was sixteen. He had visited her high school for some alumni event. She wasn’t even close enough to say hello, but she saw him across the yard, laughing with the principal. That was all it took. The crush came hard and fast.

And it never really left.

Even when Michelle became her closest friend, she never told her. It felt too sacred—too impossible. He was older, powerful, and lived in a world she would never touch. So she kept it hidden. She searched for his interviews, read articles, saved his pictures late at night when no one was watching.

She had told herself that once she got married to Sam, she would delete them all, let go of the fantasy and move on.

But fate had other plans.

She blinked down at the screen again. The man who filled her teenage dreams was now her husband.

Her chest tightened. It didn’t feel real. It felt like the kind of story girls make up in their heads and whisper into their pillows at night.

But it was real.

She held the phone tighter, then bit her lip, torn.

Would he be angry if he found out? Would he think she was creepy? Manipulative? Like she’d somehow planned all this?

“No,” she whispered to herself. “He must never know.”

With trembling fingers, she selected all the images, and deleted them.

Her thumb hovered for a second before pressing “Confirm.” She felt a pang, but also relief. He was no longer just a face in her secret gallery.

He was hers now.

A smile slowly formed on her lips.

“I get to see him every day,” she whispered. “I get to cook for him, talk to him… touch him.”

Her cheeks warmed, remembering the night they’d spent together.

She had thought she’d feel ashamed or broken. But waking up and finding it was him… it felt like the universe had rewritten her entire story in one night.

Maybe it wasn’t the way she imagined love would come. But it came anyway.

And she was grateful.

She tucked her phone away and pulled out her toiletries. A long, warm bath later, she slipped into a simple dress and stood in the center of the room, unsure what to do next.

Sitting still felt impossible.

She needed to move.

So she stepped out quietly, wandering the long hallways of the mansion. Every staff member she passed stopped what they were doing, bowed slightly, and greeted her with a warm, “Good afternoon, ma’am.”

“Ma’am…”

She wasn’t used to hearing that. Not from anyone....definitely not from people older than her.

At home, she had been the one on her knees, scrubbing floors while others enjoyed. Now… she was the wife of the man who owned all this.

The thought made her eyes sting a little, but she blinked fast and smiled.

She found her way to the kitchen.

The moment she stepped inside, a few of the cooks paused and turned to her in surprise.

“I want to help,” she said.

They exchanged quick glances.

One of the chefs stepped forward, a gentle smile on her face. “Ma’am, you don’t need to. This is our job.”

“I know,” Anna said softly. “But I enjoy cooking. Please?”

She didn’t want to sit in that beautiful room doing nothing while strangers worked for her. She’d always believed food was a love language—and today, she wanted Henry to come home to something warm and made with love.

After a few more gentle protests, the head chef finally nodded.

But one of the junior cooks added politely, “If you’re going to be in the kitchen, Mr. Duke gave us instructions. You’ll need to tie your hair. And, um… trim your nails.”

Anna looked down at her hands. Her nails weren’t long, but she understood.

She smiled. “Alright. I’ll take care of it.”