EPISODE 3: The Mansion of Secrets
990 Words
The car was silent.
Too silent.
Amara sat stiffly in the back seat of the black SUV as it rolled through the city. Every streetlight that flashed past reminded her she was leaving behind the only life she had ever known.
Her small room…
Her simple routine…
Her mother’s soft voice telling her everything would be okay…
Now she didn’t know what “okay” even meant.
Her heart pounded as they approached the gates of the Kane Mansion.
It wasn’t a house.
It wasn’t even a mansion.
It was a palace.
Tall iron gates opened automatically, revealing a long driveway lined with glowing lights and trimmed hedges. Water fountains sparkled on both sides, and the main house no, estate rose ahead like something out of a movie.
“Welcome, ma’am,” the driver said politely.
Ma’am.
She wasn’t used to that.
Would she ever be?
When the car stopped, she stepped out slowly, her legs almost trembling. The air smelled like roses and rain.
Before she could take it all in, the massive front door opened.
A woman in her late forties stepped out, wearing a sharp grey uniform. Her posture was straight, her face unreadable.
“You must be Miss Amara,” she said. “I am Mrs. Roseline, house manager. Follow me.”
No warmth.
No smile.
Just cold professionalism.
Amara swallowed and entered the mansion.
The foyer alone could fit her entire old apartment. Golden chandeliers, polished floors, paintings that looked expensive enough to pay off debt for generations.
As she walked deeper inside, she noticed something strange:
Everyone she passed maids, guards, staff stopped what they were doing and stared.
Some curious.
Some confused.
Some… disapproving.
Whispers followed her like shadows.
“Is she the one?”
“She looks too ordinary.”
“So this is the girl?”
Her cheeks burned. She kept her eyes forward.
Mrs. Roseline led her up a long staircase and down a quiet corridor.
“This will be your room,” the house manager finally said, opening a door.
Amara stepped inside and gasped.
The room was breathtakingbigger than any hotel suite she had ever cleaned. A huge bed draped in silk covers, a walk-in closet, a marble bathroom with a bathtub that looked like it belonged in a spa.
“This is… for me?” she whispered.
“For now,” Mrs. Roseline replied crisply.
“For now??” Amara echoed, confused.
Mrs. Roseline didn’t explain.
Instead, she placed a tablet on the table.
“This contains your schedule, household rules, and what is expected of you as Mr. Kane’s wife.”
Amara flinched at the title.
Wife.
Her?
Really?
Mrs. Roseline continued, “You are to attend a dinner tomorrow night with the Kane family. They must meet you before the official announcement.”
“Announcement?” Amara repeated, stunned.
“Yes,” the woman said calmly. “Your marriage to Mr. Adrian Kane will be public. And the world will judge you. It is best to prepare.”
Her heart hammered.
Public?
She wasn’t ready for that. She wasn’t ready for any of this.
As Mrs. Roseline turned to leave the room, she paused at the door.
“One more thing,” she said stiffly.
“Do not wander around the west wing. It is strictly off limits.”
Before Amara could ask why, the door shut.
The silence felt louder than anything.
She sat on the edge of the bed, letting everything hit her at once. This place was beautiful but every corner held secrets. And every person here knew something she didn’t.
She was still lost in thought when she heard it.
A soft knock.
She stood, expecting Mrs. Roseline again, but when she opened the door.
Her breath caught.
Adrian Kane stood there, leaning casually against the doorframe in a black shirt, the top buttons undone. His hair was slightly tousled, like he’d run his hands through it.
His presence filled the hallway.
Cold. Controlled. Dangerous.
“Settling in?” he asked.
She tried to speak but her voice didn’t work.
“You look… overwhelmed,” he said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.
Amara backed up instinctively.
“I don’t belong here,” she murmured. “I don’t fit into this world.”
Adrian’s gaze stayed on her face sharp, unreadable.
“That’s not your concern anymore,” he said. “You’re here because I chose you. That alone gives you a place.”
Her heart skipped.
“But you barely know me,” she whispered.
Adrian stepped closer, so close she felt the warmth of his skin.
“I know enough.”
His tone was soft too soft.
“Innocent. Desperate. Stubborn. And stronger than you think,” he said quietly.
“A perfect temporary wife.”
Her breath trembled.
He stopped inches from her, his eyes scanning her expression.
“You will be tested here,” he said. “The media, my family, the public… they will all attack you. They will try to break you.”
His face darkened, voice dipping low.
“Don’t let them.”
Amara stared into his grey eyes cold, but hiding something deeper. Something she couldn’t name.
“Adrian,” she whispered. “Are you sure I’m the right choice? What if I fail?”
He held her gaze for a long moment.
Then he reached out… and tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.
“You won’t,” he said quietly.
“I didn’t choose a weak woman.”
Her breath caught in her throat.
He turned to leave, but before walking out, he paused at the door and said:
“Stay out of the west wing.”
The same warning.
The same chill.
Then he left, leaving her alone with a racing heart and a thousand questions.
Her new life had begun.
And something told her
The west wing held the answers she wasn’t ready to hear.
- Writer
