MRS.HART*
522 Words
*Chapter 4: Mrs. Hart*
The car that came for me was not a car.
It was a black Bentley. With tinted windows.
The driver opened the door and I slid in, wearing the only nice dress I owned. White. Simple. From Target. $40.
I felt so out of place.
The Hart Estate was 30 minutes outside the city. Gates. Security. A driveway so long I thought we’d never reach the house.
And then I saw it.
A mansion. Like, actual mansion. White pillars. Fountain. 20 bedrooms maybe?
My stomach dropped.
Damian was waiting at the doors. In a black tux.
He looked at me. And for a second, his cold mask slipped.
"You look beautiful," he said quietly.
"Thank you," I whispered.
There were only 10 people at the wedding. His lawyer. His assistant. Two bodyguards. And an old woman in the front row who had to be his mother.
She was staring at my stomach.
The ceremony took 5 minutes.
"Do you take this man..."
"I do."
"Do you take this woman..."
"I do."
"I now pronounce you husband and wife."
Just like that. I was Mrs. Hart.
No kiss. No vows. Just signatures and photos for "the media."
After, Damian’s mother came to me. Elizabeth Hart. She smelled like money and judgment.
"So you’re the waitress," she said. Not mean. Just... factual.
"Yes ma’am."
"The baby is healthy?"
"Yes."
"Good." She patted my hand. "We’ll talk later. About the prenup."
Then she walked away.
That night was the worst.
Damian showed me to "my room." It was bigger than my whole apartment. King bed. Marble bathroom. Walk-in closet already full of designer dresses.
"Your room is across the hall," he said, pointing. "Separate rooms. Like the contract."
"Right," I said. "Contract."
He hesitated at the door. "Dinner is at 8. Downstairs."
Then he left.
At 8, I went down. He was already at the table. 20 chairs. Just us two.
We ate in silence. Steak. Wine for him. Juice for me.
Finally I couldn’t take it. "This is weird."
Damian looked up. "What is?"
"All of this. The house. The marriage. Us pretending."
He set his fork down. "It’s not pretending, Anovia. It’s a contract."
"Right."
More silence.
Then suddenly he stood up. "Come with me."
"Where?"
"The nursery."
We walked down a hall to a room painted soft yellow. A crib. A rocking chair. Toys. Everything brand new.
"I had it done this week," he said. "After I saw you at the diner."
My heart did something stupid. "You... did this?"
"I told you. I take responsibility." He turned to me. "I don’t know how to do this, Anovia. Be a father. Be a husband. But I’m trying."
For the first time, Damian Hart looked vulnerable.
I stepped closer. "You don’t have to do it alone."
His eyes dropped to my lips. Just for a second.
Then he stepped back. "Goodnight, Mrs. Hart."
He left.
And I stood in the nursery, alone, wearing a wedding ring that felt like it weighed 1000 pounds.
Separate rooms. No feelings. Business only.
So why did my heart hurt when he walked away?
- Writer
