Twice a Bride

A Marriage of Convenience

Amelia walked slowly through the grand entrance of the mansion, her eyes taking in the splendor that surrounded her. The marble floors gleamed beneath her feet, and the soft glow from the chandeliers above created an almost ethereal atmosphere. She had always heard about the wealth and power of the Prescott family, but seeing it firsthand was something else entirely. This mansion was a symbol of everything she had never wanted—cold, distant, and filled with empty grandeur.

The maid, a young woman with a friendly face, guided her through the expansive halls, pointing out various rooms and amenities along the way. Despite the beauty of the house, Amelia couldn’t shake the feeling of isolation creeping into her chest. This would be her home now, but she didn’t feel at home. She felt like a guest—someone who had overstayed their welcome before even being invited.

"You’ll be staying here," the maid said, opening a door to a large room that was meticulously arranged. "This will be your space for as long as you’re here. If you need anything, just let me know."

Amelia stepped inside, her eyes scanning the room. The room was well-decorated, with soft, neutral tones and elegant furniture. A large four-poster bed dominated the space, its linens pristine and inviting. There was a sitting area by the window, a large bookshelf filled with books, and a vanity where she could see herself reflected in the mirror. It was beautiful, undoubtedly, but there was no warmth in the space. It was simply a well-furnished box, an extension of the cold house around her.

As the maid stepped out to leave her alone, Amelia couldn’t help but let out a quiet sigh. Is this it? she wondered, pacing the length of the room. She had never imagined her life turning out this way—married to a man she barely knew, living in a mansion filled with emptiness. The wedding had been a whirlwind, and now, here she was, with nothing but the distant echo of her father’s promise and the life she had been forced into.

She set her bags down and began to unpack, trying to busy herself with something, anything, to take her mind off the reality that had settled in. She freshened up, washing away the remnants of the wedding and the overwhelming sense of dread that followed her. But no matter how many times she changed her clothes or rearranged her things, the heavy feeling never left.

The maid who had escorted her earlier returned to the room, her expression almost apologetic. "If you’d like," she said hesitantly, "I could show you around the mansion a bit more. I know it’s a lot to take in all at once."

Amelia nodded gratefully, not sure what else to do. As they walked through the corridors, the maid gave her a brief tour of the rest of the house, explaining the various rooms and their functions. It wasn’t until they reached a small sitting room by the back of the house that Amelia’s curiosity got the better of her.

She glanced around, making sure they were alone before she asked, "I know very little about my husband… Ethan, I mean. Can you tell me what he’s really like? Is he always like this? So… distant?"

The maid paused for a moment, her face tightening as if she was considering how much to reveal. "It’s not really my place to say, miss," she started slowly, "but if you must know, Mr. Prescott is... well, he’s ruthless. Everyone here fears him, even those who have been with him for years. He doesn’t take kindly to being crossed, and he’s hard on those around him, especially now with his condition."

Amelia’s heart tightened in her chest. "His condition?" she repeated, confused.

"He’s blind, yes," the maid continued, her voice quiet, "but it’s more than that. He’s been like this for a while now—cold, demanding, always pushing people around. And now… now that he’s blind, he’s worse. No one wants to anger him. People know what happens when you do."

Amelia swallowed, her throat dry. "What happens?"

The maid looked around quickly, as if ensuring no one was listening. "I shouldn’t speak out of turn, miss, but… well, the last person who crossed him left this mansion with nothing. He doesn’t hesitate to destroy those who go against him, even those closest to him. It’s like he’s become a different person."

Amelia’s mind raced. This man… my husband… is a tyrant. She had known about his wealth and his blindness, but hearing about his ruthless nature shook her. She couldn’t understand how anyone could live like that, constantly surrounded by fear. And yet, here she was, his wife, stepping into this world with no idea how to navigate it.

"You’d do well to keep your distance, miss," the maid added quietly, almost as an afterthought. "He’s difficult to deal with, and his moods can change quickly. Be careful what you say and do around him. You don’t want to anger him."

Amelia nodded, her mind swirling with the new information. What have I gotten myself into?

Hours passed, and soon, the quiet hum of the mansion was interrupted by the sound of a car pulling up. Amelia stood by the window, watching as Darius helped Ethan out of the vehicle. He had returned from his business meeting, looking just as stoic and detached as before. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it certainly wasn’t this cold, impassive man.

As Ethan entered the foyer, assisted by Darius, he didn’t even glance in Amelia’s direction. His focus was entirely on Darius, and Amelia felt a pang of disappointment. Why would he? she thought bitterly. Why would he care?

She stood at the top of the stairs, trying to summon the courage to speak, to do something that would make him acknowledge her. As he made his way toward the staircase, she forced a smile and approached him.

"Ethan, welcome back," she said softly, but before she could take another step toward him, he held up a hand, stopping her in her tracks.

"I don’t need your help," he said, his voice icy and firm. "Stay clear of me."

Amelia froze, taken aback by his coldness. He didn’t even look at her as he spoke. His words were final, leaving no room for argument.

"I don’t want you near me," Ethan continued, his voice devoid of warmth. "You stay in your room. I have mine. Don’t come near me again."

He didn’t wait for her to respond. He turned sharply and nodded to Darius. "Take me to my room."

Amelia stood there, staring at his retreating figure, her chest tight with a mixture of frustration and hurt. This is my life now, she thought bitterly. This is what I signed up for—a marriage with a man who doesn’t even want me.

Darius, noticing the tension, looked at Amelia sympathetically but said nothing. He quietly followed Ethan up the stairs, leaving Amelia standing alone in the hallway, more uncertain about her future than ever before.