Chapter 13 Shadows of the Estate
Maddie’s pov
The breakfast table felt like a battlefield after Alexander's departure, the air still crackling with unspoken accusations. Ben leaned back in his chair, his bloodshot eyes fixed on me with that lazy, predatory gleam that made my stomach twist. I pushed my plate away, the eggs and toast suddenly unappetizing under his scrutiny. The morning room, with its high ceilings and walls lined in antique wallpaper depicting pastoral scenes, felt too confined, too intimate for the tension simmering between us.
"Well, wife," Ben drawled, emphasizing the word like it was a joke only he found funny.
"Since we're stuck in this charade, how about I show you around your new prison, I mean, home?" He stood up abruptly, buttoning his wrinkled tuxedo shirt haphazardly, as if the effort was beneath him.
A servant hovered nearby, a middle-aged woman in a crisp uniform, her eyes downcast as she cleared the dishes with quiet efficiency. There were only a handful of them that I'd noticed so far, discreet figures who moved like shadows, anticipating needs without a word.
I hesitated, glancing toward the door where Alexander had vanished. Part of me wanted to follow him, to seek out that dangerous heat in his gaze, but I knew better. Playing the part of the dutiful bride was my shield for now.
"A tour sounds... enlightening," I replied, forcing a smile that didn't reach my eyes. Ben's smirk widened, as if he'd won some small victory, and he gestured for me to follow him out of the room.
The estate was a sprawling behemoth, a grand mansion that sprawled across acres of manicured land like a living entity, breathing history renovated to modern, and wealth from every stone. It boasted three stories of imposing architecture, white brick facade accented with white trim, tall mullioned windows that let in streams of morning light, and a slate roof that sloped dramatically against the sky. As we stepped into the grand foyer, the heart of the house, I couldn't help but feel dwarfed by its scale. Marble floors stretched out underfoot, polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the crystal chandelier that hung overhead like a frozen waterfall. Flanking the entrance were twin staircases that curved upward in elegant symmetry, leading to the upper floors where bedrooms and private suites awaited.
Ben waved a hand dismissively at the space.
"This is where the magic happens, or doesn't, in our case." He chuckled at his own joke, leading me toward a set of double doors that opened into a formal living room. "The house sits on about fifty acres. Plenty of room to get lost if you need to escape... certain company." His tone was light, but there was an edge to it, a probing quality that set my nerves on alert.
As we wandered through the living room, furnished with cream colored sofas, antique side tables, and a massive fireplace mantel carved from oak, Ben began to unravel the threads of his family history. Servants appeared sporadically, a gardener clipping hedges visible through the windows, a maid dusting a porcelain vase in the corner, each one nodding respectfully but keeping their distance. The estate's isolation was palpable; surrounded by rolling hills dotted with wildflowers and ancient oaks, it felt like a world unto itself. A sparkling lake bordered the property to the east, its waters fed by a gentle stream that wound through the grounds, and clusters of rose bushes and lavender beds added bursts of color and fragrance to the landscape.
"You know, I never knew my real father," Ben said casually as we moved into the library, a room lined floor-to-ceiling with leather-bound books, the air thick with the scent of aged paper and polished wood. He ran a finger along a shelf, dislodging a faint puff of dust. "He bailed before I was born. Mom raised me on her own for years, a tough woman, looked way younger than her age. People always thought she was my sister." He paused, leaning against a ladder that led to the upper shelves. "Then she met Alexander four years ago. He was this big-shot tycoon, loaded beyond belief, and get this, he has a thing for older women. But Mom? She could've passed for twenty-five, easily but she was forty. No one batted an eye at the age gap."
I nodded, feigning interest as I trailed my fingers over a globe on a pedestal, spinning it slowly. The soreness from last night pulsed faintly, a secret reminder of Alexander's touch, contrasting sharply with Ben's detached ramblings. Outside the window, the natural beauty unfolded, meadows stretching toward the horizon, dotted with wild poppies and daisies swaying in the breeze. A fountain burbled in the distance, its stone cherubs spouting arcs of water that caught the sunlight like diamonds.
"She married him for the money, though they claim to have loved each other. plain and simple,"
Ben continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as we exited the library and headed down a hallway adorned with family portraits. The paintings showed generations of stern-faced ancestors, their eyes following us like silent judges.
"Alexander promised her the world, stability, luxury. And yeah, he delivered. But then... the accident." His face darkened, and he stopped in front of a portrait of a striking woman with Ben's sharp features and piercing blue eyes. "Car crash, two years ago. The official story is that she lost control on a rainy night. But I don't buy it. Too convenient."
We stepped into a sunroom next, glass walls offering panoramic views of the estate's grounds. The huge garden where our wedding had taken place yesterday sprawled out before us, a masterpiece of landscaping with manicured hedges forming intricate patterns, flower beds bursting with hydrangeas and tulips in every hue, and gravel paths winding through it all. Arbors draped in wisteria arched overhead, and in the center stood the gazebo where vows had been exchanged under a canopy of fairy lights. Now, in daylight, it looked almost ethereal, surrounded by the serene beauty of the land, wooded areas to the north providing a natural barrier, the lake's edge lined with weeping willows that dipped their branches into the water.
Ben leaned against the glass, staring out. "After Mom died, I could've cut ties. But Alexander's rich as sin, and he's got his hooks in the family business. I'm still calling him 'stepdad' because it keeps the cash flowing. Hell, the only reason I went through with this marriage farce is the board seat he dangled. Said I'd join once I 'settled down.' So here we are, you're my ticket to power."
His words hung heavy, laced with bitterness. I kept my expression neutral, but inside, my mind raced. Alexander already knew about the fake marriage; he'd whispered as much in the heat of our passion last night. But revealing that would shatter everything. Instead, I murmured, "Sounds complicated."
Ben snorted, pushing off the wall and leading me toward the conservatory, a lush space filled with exotic plants and the humid scent of earth and blooms. Orchids dangled from hanging baskets, and a small waterfall trickled into a koi pond at the center. "Complicated? Try infuriating. I don't trust the guy as far as I can throw him. Hates his guts, really. And now? He's staring at you like you're his next conquest. Stay away from him, Maddie. He's dangerous, and has secrets buried deeper than Mom's grave."
I felt a chill despite the warmth of the room. Ben's warning was calculated, designed to plant seeds of doubt, to make me recoil from Alexander. But all it did was stoke the fire of my curiosity, and desire. As we continued the tour, the mansion's grandeur unfolded further: a ballroom with gleaming parquet floors and mirrored walls, a home theater with plush recliners, and a wine cellar stocked with vintages worth fortunes. The land outside mirrored the opulence, expansive lawns rolling down to the water's edge, flower gardens exploding in color, and the distant hum of bees among the blossoms.
By the time we circled back to the foyer, Ben's monologue had painted a picture of resentment and opportunism. He was using me, just as he accused Alexander of using everyone else. But I held my tongue, letting him believe his words were swaying me.