Chapter 143 The Golden Cage Tightens
Carson sat in the grand dining room, staring at the long table covered with silk napkins, gold plates, and crystal glasses.
The chandelier above glowed softly, reflecting off the polished surface. Everything looked perfect—too perfect.
Around him, planners and assistants moved about, talking about flowers, music, and guests. Their voices blended into a dull hum he barely heard.
Victoria walked in, her heels clicking against the marble floor. “Carson,” she said sharply.
He looked up slowly.
“Yes, Mother?” he asked, his tone calm but tired.
She smiled tightly. “I spoke with the decorators. They’ll use white roses for the ceremony. Bridget’s idea, but it matches perfectly with our family theme,” she said proudly.
He nodded, forcing a polite smile. “That’s fine,” he said. “Whatever makes everyone happy.”
Victoria frowned slightly. “Not everyone, Carson. You too,” she said, her tone softening for a moment.
He didn’t answer. His eyes drifted toward the window, where the evening sky was turning orange. The colors outside looked freer than anything inside this house.
After a long pause, Victoria placed a file in front of him. “These are the final guest lists. The governor’s wife will attend, so make sure you greet her personally,” she said. Carson blinked and nodded again.
“Of course,” he said quietly.
She studied his face. “What’s wrong with you lately? You’ve been distant.”
He took a slow breath. “I’m just tired,” he said. “There’s a lot going on at work.”
Victoria waved her hand dismissively. “You’ll manage. You always do. Besides, after the wedding, everything will settle down.”
She smiled again, satisfied with her own words. Carson leaned back in his chair, his jaw tight.
“Mother,” he said slowly, “can I ask you something?”
Victoria looked at him curiously. “Of course,” she said.
He hesitated before speaking. “Do you ever wonder if all of this—” he gestured around the room “—is too much? The attention, the money, the pressure?”
She blinked, clearly not expecting that.
“Too much?” she repeated. “Carson, our name demands respect. People expect greatness from us. You can’t disappoint them.” Her voice carried that familiar sharp edge of pride.
He looked down at his hands, fingers tapping lightly against the table. “But what if I don’t care about what they expect?” he asked quietly.
Victoria’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“You’re speaking nonsense,” she said. “This family gave you everything. You have a responsibility to carry our legacy. Marrying Bridget is part of that. She’s from a good family, and together, you’ll strengthen our position.” Her words came out firm and rehearsed.
Carson sighed, rubbing his temples. “I know, Mother. I know what’s expected,” he said, his voice low. “But I don’t feel—” He stopped mid-sentence.
Victoria crossed her arms. “You don’t feel what?” she asked, her tone cold now.
He hesitated, then whispered, “I don’t feel happy.”
Victoria stared at him for a moment before laughing lightly. “Happiness is not the goal, Carson. Stability is. Respect. Wealth. Happiness comes after, when everything else is in place.”
She walked to the window and looked out at the garden. “You’ll understand that once you’re married.”
He said nothing, just watched her back as she stood tall and composed. The silence between them stretched long and heavy.
Finally, he rose from his seat. “Maybe I’ll take a walk,” he said quietly.
She didn’t turn around. “Don’t be late for dinner,” she said.
Her tone left no room for argument.
Outside, the cool air hit his face, and he breathed deeply. The garden lights glowed softly, and the scent of fresh roses filled the air.
He walked along the path slowly, hands in his pockets. The house behind him loomed like a golden palace, grand and beautiful, but it felt like a cage.
He stopped near the fountain, where water trickled softly under the dim light. Pulling something from his pocket, he stared at it—a ring.
The diamond glimmered faintly. It wasn’t on Bridget’s finger yet; he had kept it with him for days. The longer he held it, the heavier it felt.
He turned the ring between his fingers, the metal cold against his skin. “You should be excited,” he murmured to himself. “This is supposed to be the best time of your life.”
But the words sounded hollow, even to his own ears. The thought of marriage no longer brought warmth—it brought weight.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. A message from Bridget: “Mom says we should finalize the seating chart tonight. Don’t forget.”
He stared at the message for a long moment before replying, “Sure.”
Then he turned off the phone and slipped it back into his coat. The silence returned, heavier than before.
He sat on the fountain’s edge, elbows resting on his knees. His reflection rippled on the water’s surface, split and distorted.
“When did I start losing myself?” he whispered.
The question hung in the air with no answer. He closed his eyes, letting the sound of water fill the emptiness.
Footsteps echoed behind him. It was the family butler, Samuel. “Sir, dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes,” Samuel said politely.
Carson opened his eyes and nodded. “Thank you,” he said softly.
Samuel hesitated. “Are you all right, sir?” he asked.
Carson smiled faintly. “Just thinking,” he said.
Samuel bowed slightly. “Very well, sir,” he said before walking away.
Carson stayed seated for another minute before standing slowly.
He slipped the ring back into his pocket, feeling its weight again. The diamond might as well have been made of stone.
As he walked back toward the house, he could hear faint laughter from inside—Victoria’s voice mingling with Bridget’s.
He paused at the doorway, listening. Their joy sounded distant, like it belonged to another world. He took a deep breath before stepping inside, his face calm once more.
Victoria looked up from the table as he entered. “There you are,” she said briskly. “Bridget will join us soon. Sit down.”
Carson obeyed silently, taking his seat at the end of the long table. The servants began to serve dinner. The silverware clinked gently, but no one spoke for a while.
Finally, Victoria broke the silence. “I’ve arranged for a magazine to cover the wedding,” she said proudly. “It’ll be on every front page. Our family deserves to be celebrated.”
Carson forced a nod.
“That’s wonderful, Mother,” he said. She smiled, pleased by his agreement.
But his heart was far away—still by the fountain, still staring at the ring in his palm. He picked up his glass and took a slow sip of wine, his expression unreadable.
Around him, the laughter, the plans, and the perfection all blurred together. Inside, only the quiet truth remained—he was living in a golden cage, and the walls were closing in.