The Arrival
1429 Words
Sonia
The Lorenzo estate was a fortress.
Towering iron gates loomed over us, guarded by men in black suits. Beyond them, a massive mansion stretched across the land, its marble pillars shining under the fading light. It was grand, but it felt cold. Lifeless.
Adam stepped out first, not waiting for me.
Arrogant bastard.
I followed, gripping the folds of my dress. It was all I had to remind myself that today was supposed to be my wedding day.
The moment I stepped inside, the air shifted.
Eyes locked onto me.
At the far end of the room sat his father. A man whose presence was so commanding that even in silence, he held all the power. His gaze swept over me, cold and assessing, as if I were nothing more than an inconvenience.
To his left, a young woman. Adam’s sister, I assumed leaned against the staircase, arms crossed, her expression a perfect mix of boredom and disdain.
And then, in the center of it all, sat an old woman in a wheelchair obviously the grandmother. Unlike the others, she didn’t glare. She just watched me, her eyes heavy with something I couldn’t place.
No one spoke.
No smiles. No welcoming words.
Just silence.
This was my new family?
I swallowed hard.
“Welcome,” his father finally said. His tone was anything but warm.
Adam barely stopped walking.
“Follow me.”
He didn’t introduce me. Didn’t explain anything. Just walked off, expecting me to follow like a servant.
I forced myself to move.
This house was filled with secrets. I could feel it in the way they looked at me. I could sense the tension thick in the air.
One thing was certain something was wrong with this family.
And I was now trapped in the middle of it.
****
His room was massive. Not just big—massive. My old room would have to triple in size just to fit in here. The décor was simple but elegant, the kind of understated wealth that didn’t need to announce itself. And his bed? Large enough for a whole nuclear family. What were the chances we’d ever become one?
The scent of the room wrapped around me, warm and familiar. It smelled like him—clean, fresh, with a faint trace of something expensive. His sheets were neatly arranged, his wardrobe meticulously organized. It was almost annoying how close to perfect he seemed.
He walked to the wardrobe and, with an exaggerated sigh, shifted some of his neatly folded clothes. “Here’s your corner,” he grumbled, clearly displeased at having to make space for me.
I smirked. Good. Let the frustration begin.
“I didn’t bring my belongings,” I said casually. “They’ll arrive tomorrow.”
“As expected,” he muttered. “First, you take my last name. Now, my space. What’s next? My clothes?”
I flashed him a grin. “Actually…”
Without waiting for permission, I pushed him aside and rummaged through his wardrobe. His clothes screamed taste. Sharp suits, casual loungewear, neatly pressed shirts. This man didn’t just dress well, he knew style.
“I like this one!” I pulled out a blue pajama set, holding it up against me. “I’m taking it. And no, that wasn’t a request. Just keeping you informed.”
His jaw clenched as he reached for the pajamas, but I was quicker. Years of dodging my mother’s attempts to snatch things from me had trained me well.
A knock on the door interrupted our little game. One of the maids stood at the entrance, hands clasped in front of her. “Dinner is ready, sir.”
We both turned to each other, silently debating who would get to use the bathroom first. With a triumphant smirk, I won again.
His bathroom was a dream. Scented candles, expensive skincare products, and an organization that made me roll my eyes. So he’s a perfectionist too. I ran my fingers over a row of hair care products, then shrugged. Why not? I used them all.
The warm water did little to ease the tension in my muscles. As I scrubbed off the remnants of makeup and the weight of the day.
By the time I stepped out, I was wrapped in his blue pajamas, smelling just like him. The fabric was soft against my skin, and I had to admit it was comfortable.
Then he walked out of the bathroom, shirtless.
Lord in heaven.
His body was carved like a fallen angel’s, all lean muscle and raw strength. If we ever did fall in love—if we ever had children, they would be dangerously attractive.
I forced my eyes away as we headed downstairs for dinner.
The dining table was a masterpiece of wealth. The food was a lavish spread, plates perfectly arranged, silverware gleaming under the warm lights. But something was off.
Silence.
No laughter, no casual conversations about the day. Just the sound of silverware against porcelain.
My father-in-law broke the silence. “Adams, you’ve been given a mandatory one-week marital leave for your honeymoon.”
Adams barely looked up from his plate. “That won’t be necessary.”
I blinked. Excuse me?
I clenched my fork. He had already ruined our wedding day. I wouldn’t let him do it again.
“It will be necessary, Sir,” I countered quickly, flashing a sweet smile. “Thank you so much for your generosity.”
Adams shot me a look, stunned at my audacity. His father, however, merely nodded in approval.
“She’s bold,” his sister remarked, her voice laced with something between amusement and disdain.
Adams turned to her, his expression dark. “Don’t you dare speak about my wife.”
Tension crackled in the air like a live wire. His sister’s eyes flashed with defiance, ready to bite back. Oh, hell no. If they started arguing now, the whole house might burn down.
Thinking fast, I clutched my throat and coughed dramatically.
Adams immediately turned to me, concern flashing in his eyes. “Are you okay?”
I nodded weakly, reaching for the glass of water he handed me.
His grandmother’s eyes filled with warmth, a stark contrast to the cold disinterest on his father’s face. His sister, however, wasn’t fooled. She narrowed her eyes at me, as if seeing straight through my little act.
The dinner dragged on in uncomfortable silence. When it finally ended, we returned to our room, but not before I made a quick stop at the kitchen to get water for Adams.
And that’s when I ran into his sister.
She leaned against the counter, arms folded, her expression unreadable. I smiled, offering an olive branch.
She ignored me.
I let out a low whistle. “Wow. So it is a genetic thing.”
Her gaze snapped to mine. “What did you just say?”
I feigned innocence. “Oh, nothing.”
She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Let’s see how long you last in this house. Adams will wreck you.”
A chill ran down my spine, but I refused to let her see it. Instead, I smiled. “Time will tell who gets broken.”
For the first time, she looked taken aback. I walked past her, my heart hammering.
Before heading back to our room, I visited Adams’ grandmother. A maid led me to her quarters, where the old woman greeted me with open arms. She was soft, gentle, the only source of kindness I had felt in this house so far. She couldn’t speak, but her embrace said more than words ever could. Before I left, she pressed a small gift into my hands.
Back in our room, Adams was already asleep, his breathing slow and steady. He had shifted to the far side of the bed, leaving space for me.
I lay down but sleep refused to come.
My mind replayed his sister’s words. Adams will wreck you.
Something was off in this house. The rivalry between Adams and his sister. The way his father barely acknowledged me. The warmth of his grandmother. What had silenced her?
And then there was Adams himself. The man who claimed to despise me, yet had stood up for me at dinner.
Why?
Did he care?
Would my new family ever love me?
And why didn’t anyone of Adams family attend the wedding?
I turned on my side, watching the faint rise and fall of Adams’ chest.
I had married a stranger.
But soon, I would uncover every single one of his secrets.
- Writer
