The Silence Before The Storm.
1012 Words
CHAPTER NINE – THE SILENCE BEFORE THE STORM
The morning after Christmas had an eerie calm. The snow that had fallen the previous night now blanketed Barcelona in thick white layers, glittering in the weak winter sunlight. Carriages rolled slowly along cobblestone streets, their wheels crunching softly through the frost. Shops were quiet, save for the faint aroma of freshly baked pastries and roasted chestnuts that drifted through the alleys.
Inside the Whitmore villa, the quiet was heavier. Jane sat by a large bay window in the grand sitting room, her hands wrapped around a steaming cup of cocoa. The warmth seeped into her fingers, but not into her heart. The engagement ball, the Christmas celebrations, the smiles of her family—they all felt distant, almost unreal.
Frederick entered silently, as though he had appeared out of the shadows. He carried the morning paper, folded neatly under one arm, and wore a coat of midnight blue dusted with snowflakes.
“Good morning, Jane,” he said softly, setting the paper down on the table.
“Good morning,” she replied, her voice fragile. “Did you sleep well?”
He paused, leaning against the windowsill. “I always sleep well.”
Jane studied him, noticing the precise way his coat fell, the controlled calm in his posture. “You always seem… perfect,” she murmured.
Frederick smiled. “Perfection is only a reflection of how much I care about you.”
She wanted to believe him, yet something deep within her whispered a warning she couldn’t name. She tried to ignore it.
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The Family Tension
Breakfast was quieter than the previous days. Eduardo Whitmore’s brow was furrowed as he read reports of business deals in Spain and France, while Victoria sat beside him, her fingers lightly brushing Jane’s hand across the table.
Frederick, ever the attentive fiancé, engaged in polite conversation with Jane’s siblings, Lucas and Alicia. But even as he smiled, answered questions, and laughed softly at jokes, Jane noticed the subtle ways he guided each conversation to highlight her achievements, her charm, her intelligence.
It was masterful—so subtle that most would not notice—but Jane’s heart sensed something cold beneath the warmth.
Later, she found herself alone in the library, the walls lined with books from floor to ceiling, the scent of aged pages blending with faint hints of pine from the garland in the corner. She traced her fingers along the spines, trying to find comfort in familiarity, in normalcy.
Frederick appeared behind her, silently closing the door. “Jane,” he said, his voice low, “you worry too much.”
“I don’t know how not to,” she admitted. “There’s so much I need to think about—the family, our future…”
He stepped closer. “And I will handle it. You won’t need to worry about anyone or anything but yourself.”
Jane nodded, unable to speak. There was comfort in his words, but also a subtle insistence, a quiet command, that made her heart race with a mixture of warmth and unease.
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The First Glimpse of the Storm
Later that afternoon, Jane took a walk in the snow-covered garden. Each step left delicate footprints in the fresh snow, reflecting her own uncertainty. She stopped at a small fountain at the far end, its waters frozen in delicate ice formations.
Frederick appeared at her side, as if drawn by instinct. He stood close enough that the warmth of his body brushed against hers. “The world is beautiful when it listens,” he murmured, his tone smooth, almost hypnotic.
Jane shivered, unsure if it was the cold or the intensity in his gaze.
“You must trust me,” he continued, taking her hand in his. “No matter what anyone says. No matter what happens, we will face it together.”
Jane wanted to believe him. She wanted to lean into him, to allow the warmth of his promise to chase away her fears. And for a fleeting moment, she did.
But as she looked into his eyes, she noticed something flicker—a shadow, a hidden depth she could not understand.
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CHAPTER TEN – THE FIRST TESTS
The following days were a careful dance. Barcelona was still wrapped in the soft glow of Christmas lights, and the streets smelled of fresh bread, roasted chestnuts, and evergreen. But inside the Whitmore villa, tensions simmered just below the surface.
Jane found herself increasingly aware of Frederick’s subtle influence. He complimented her at every turn, steered conversations to her advantage, and subtly undermined others without their noticing.
At breakfast one morning, Lucas made a sarcastic remark about Frederick’s family history. Frederick’s smile never wavered, but the subtle shift in his posture, the cold glint in his eyes, made Lucas fall silent. Jane caught the glance, her stomach tightening.
Later, Jane’s mother pulled her aside. “Jane,” Victoria said softly, “you must be careful. I don’t trust him. There is something… controlled about him. Too perfect. Too smooth. Watch closely.”
Jane’s heart ached. She wanted to believe in Frederick. She wanted to trust the man she loved, the man she thought loved her. But the seed of doubt had been planted.
That evening, while walking along a quiet snow-covered avenue, Frederick stopped and took her hands in his. “Jane, promise me something,” he whispered, his eyes searching hers. “Promise me that no matter what others say, you will always believe in us.”
Jane hesitated. Her heart wanted to say yes, to cling to the warmth of his words. But somewhere deep inside, a cold whisper warned her: trust is not given blindly.
“I… I promise,” she said softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
Frederick smiled, a perfect, unreadable smile. And as she leaned into him, believing for a moment in the love she wanted to hold onto, Jane could not yet see the storm gathering beneath the snow, hidden by charm, elegance, and the promise of Christmas magic.
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