Chapter 3: I know you’re not her
1243 Words
The drive to the mansion was long, too long for Charlotte to lose herself in thoughts. But eventually, they arrived. And with each mile that ticked by, the knot in her stomach grew tighter.
She hadn’t spoken a word to her husband - Ryan - the entire journey, and neither had he.
The silence between them felt heavy, suffocating almost.
What did he mean by ‘I thought you’d be different?’ What was that supposed to mean? And why did he seem so strange, so distant? Every question only piled on top of the last.
By the time they reached the mansion, Charlotte had lost count of her prayers for sanity.
She wasn’t sure how much more she could take.
The mansion itself was more imposing than she had imagined.. its towering columns, endless rows of windows, and walls so tall they seemed to touch the sky.
It felt like an old castle, a fortress with secrets hiding behind every door.
The rooms inside were enormous, stretching out in every direction.
Each hallway seemed to whisper of wealth and loneliness.
As Ryan had wheeled himself inside, she had overheard voices.. so he didn’t stay alone, then.
But who else lived here? She couldn’t imagine him having much company. Not with his… condition.
She glanced at the servant girl, Mara, who had followed them inside. Mara was the one who wheeled Ryan to the bathroom, her soft voice kind and respectful. Charlotte noticed how gentle she was as she helped him out of the chair, speaking to him in hushed tones as though she were accustomed to his need.
Charlotte, still in her wedding dress, stayed in the vast room, taking it all in. She was supposed to be in their room now, wasn’t she? But the idea of this being their room felt absurd.
She swallowed, trying to shake off the unease that had settled deep in her chest.
This mansion… this life... none of it was hers. None of it ever had been.. everything happening all felt like a weird long dream.
Just as Charlotte was lost in her thoughts, the bathroom door creaked open.
She turned, thinking it was Mara coming back to check on her. But what she say literally almost had her heart out of her chest.
Ryan.
He stood in the doorway, not in his mask, and certainly not in a wheelchair.
He was breathtakingly handsome.. dark hair, sharp jawline, and striking eyes that seemed to take in everything. But it wasn’t just his looks that caught her off guard. It was the way he moved.. fluid, effortless, as if the wheelchair had never been a part of him at all.
Her eyes widened, her mouth going dry.
Had she been imagining things this whole time? Was this whole stuff actually a dream?
“Hello wife.” Ryan said, a small smirk on his face as he advanced in. “Surprised?” He asked, his voice low, almost teasing.
He didn’t seem to notice how she was staring, or maybe he did and simply didn’t care.
Charlotte, still frozen, finally managed to swallow the lump in her throat. Her voice came out barely above a whisper, thick with disbelief.
"You... you can walk?" Her words hung in the air, the question coming out before she could stop it.
Ryan’s smirk deepened, his eyes flashing with amusement.
Walk?” he drawled, his voice rich with a calm arrogance. “I can do far more than that.”
Her breath hitched.
This… this can’t be real,” she whispered, more to herself than him.
Ryan’s smirk widened, his gaze unwavering as he stepped closer. “And yet, here I am. Real as the air you’re breathing.”
Charlotte was still trying to process what was happening. Her thoughts were scattered, each one crashing into the next as she stared at him.
She had never been so confused in her life.
Ryan Graham.. the man who had been nothing but a shadow, a fragile, wheelchair-bound figure, was standing before her.. alive, healthy, and completely different from what she had been led to believe.
“You’re not…” she trailed off, struggling to find the words.
Ryan raised an eyebrow, his smile still cool, distant. "Not what, exactly?"
Her heart pounded. This was too much. She couldn’t just stand here like this, unable to make sense of anything.
"I mean…" She swallowed hard, trying to steady her breath, but his calmness only made her more uneasy.
His gaze softened, but the mocking edge lingered. "Don’t worry, you’ll catch up. I’m sure you have a lot of questions."
Then, as if reading her mind, he stepped toward a drawer across the room, a soft creak of wood as he pulled it open.
Charlotte didn’t know what to do. Her hands were still trembling, her mind still spinning with the question:
Why the lie? Why pretend?
"Why?" she whispered, her voice faltering as she clutched the edge of the bed for support.
Ryan didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he took a step closer, pulling a sheet of paper from the drawer, holding it out to her. “Tell me, wife,” he said, his tone suddenly too casual, “What is your name?”
Her brow furrowed. Where was the question coming from all of a sudden. Her name?
Was this a test? Was he going to expose her, or was this just another part of his game?
She looked up at him, the confusion clouding her judgment.
“I…” She stammered, and in a moment of pure instinct, she blurted out, “Joanna Bennett.”
Ryan didn’t flinch. In fact, his lips curled into a quiet laugh.
He paused for a second, eyeing her with an unsettling calm. “Joanna Bennett?” he repeated, his voice dripping with mockery. “You’re not her. I know you’re not.”
Her heart sank. She felt like the ground beneath her was crumbling. How did he know?
“I asked you a question, wife.” His voice was still soft, but there was a steel edge in it now, one that made her hesitate. “What is your name?”
She took in a deep breath, weighing her options, her fingers tightening into fists at her sides.
She could lie again, keep up the pretense, but something about the way he was looking at her.. no, seeing her.. made her reconsider.
“Charlotte Bennett,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ryan’s lips twitched into something resembling a smile. "Charlotte," he repeated, tasting it on his tongue. “It suits you.”
Her cheeks flushed at the compliment, but she was too overwhelmed to respond.
“I thought I’d keep it simple.” His tone was lighter now, as if they were discussing something trivial. “Charlotte Bennett. It’s a nice name. Far better than Joanna, don’t you think?”
She didn’t know how to respond. A thank you?
She opened her mouth to say it, but the words never left her lips. The knot in her stomach only tightened.
Ryan extended the paperwork toward her, his smirk slowly fading as he observed her.
“Here.” He placed it between them, leaning back slightly. “Sign it. Your name goes here.”
She looked at the paper in his hands, but confusion only deepened. She hadn’t even noticed what it said.
“What’s this?” she asked, almost dreading the answer.
- Writer
