Chapter 5: ”Behind The Iron Gate”
643 Words
The Rolls-Royce glided silently through the rain.
Neither Ariana nor Damien spoke.
The silence wasn’t uncomfortable.
It was… unfamiliar.
Ariana stole a glance at him.
He sat by the window, one hand resting on the armrest, eyes fixed on the rain.
His expression hadn’t changed once since they left the hospital.
She couldn’t understand him.
How could someone be so calm all the time?
⸻
Forty minutes later…
The car slowed before two massive black iron gates.
Armed security guards stood on either side.
The gates opened without a word.
As the car drove through, Ariana’s eyes widened.
The estate stretched farther than she could see.
Ancient oak trees lined the driveway.
A marble fountain stood in the center of a circular garden, its water sparkling under soft lights.
The mansion itself looked more like a palace than a home.
Tall stone columns framed the entrance.
Warm golden lights glowed through towering windows.
“It doesn’t even look real,” Ariana murmured.
“It’s just a house,” Damien replied.
She looked at him in disbelief.
“Just a house?”
For the first time…
A faint smile touched the corner of his lips.
“It leaks when it rains.”
Ariana blinked.
Then, despite everything she’d been through…
She laughed.
It was quiet.
Brief.
But genuine.
Damien looked at her.
He didn’t smile again.
Yet something in his expression softened.
⸻
As they stepped inside, the grand entrance hall took Ariana’s breath away.
Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling.
A sweeping staircase curved to the second floor.
The polished marble reflected the warm light.
A line of household staff waited respectfully.
The oldest among them stepped forward.
“Welcome home, Mr. Moretti.”
Then he turned to Ariana.
“And welcome, Miss Brooks.”
“I’m Edwin,” he said with a gentle smile. “I’ve looked after Mr. Moretti since he was a boy.”
Ariana expected Damien to correct him.
To say she wasn’t staying.
He didn’t.
Instead, he simply handed Edwin his coat.
“Prepare the east wing.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The east wing?” Ariana asked.
Damien nodded.
“It will be yours.”
“An entire wing?”
“I value privacy.”
“So do I.”
“Then we’ll get along.”
⸻
Edwin led Ariana upstairs.
As they walked through the quiet hallways, she noticed something strange.
There were no family photographs.
No portraits.
No signs that anyone actually lived here.
The mansion was beautiful…
But it felt lonely.
Almost frozen in time.
She stopped before a closed wooden door.
From behind it…
A soft piano melody drifted into the hallway.
Beautiful.
Gentle.
Filled with longing.
She turned to Edwin.
“Who’s playing?”
Edwin looked surprised.
“No one.”
“But I can hear—”
The music stopped.
Silence.
Edwin’s expression changed.
“It’s getting late, Miss Brooks.”
He quickly continued walking.
Ariana looked back at the closed door.
For just a second…
She thought she saw the handle move.
As if someone had been standing on the other side.
Listening.
⸻
Later that night…
In another part of the mansion…
Damien stood alone in a dark room.
His fingers rested on the piano keys.
On top of the instrument sat a tiny silver butterfly hairpin.
He picked it up carefully.
His thumb traced its delicate wings.
His usually unreadable face showed something almost no one had ever seen.
Pain.
A knock came at the door.
“Come in.”
Marco stepped inside.
“You brought her here.”
“I did.”
Marco folded his arms.
“Does she remember?”
Damien looked at the butterfly.
“No.”
“And if she does?”
Damien closed his hand around it.
His answer was barely above a whisper.
“Then everything we’ve protected… falls apart.”
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