THE OTHER BRIDE

CHAPTER THREE

Lyzander

Good.

He relaxed in his chair, without his gaze leaving her. “You’ll start working today.” Arielle blinked. “Working?” Rowan grinned, clearly enjoying this. “What, did you think this was a honeymoon?” Arielle swallowed hard, shaking her head quickly. Lyzander observed her. She was scared. And yet there was something else. Not resistance. But hesitation. Like she wanted to speak but didn’t dare. He decided to push. “Laundry,” he said smoothly. Arielle stiffened slightly.

It was a small reaction barely noticeable. But he caught it. She had been expecting worse. But instead of relief, there was uncertainty. Lyzander let a slow, sharp amusement tug at his lips. She wasn’t timid, but Careful. She understood her environment, and that meant she was smarter than she looked.

Good.

It would be more interesting when she finally broke.

Celeste.

As Celeste poured herself another cup of coffee, her perfectly manicured fingers moved with sharp precision. She had been there since the beginning and had watched Lyzander claw his way through this world. Had seen the nights when his father treated him more like an investment than a son. Had stood by his side through it all.

And now? Now, she watched some girl sit at his table like she belonged there.

She despised it.

Celeste had always known this day would come the bride promised to the Rathmore estate would arrive. Saraphina Calloway: poised, confident, effortlessly elegant. Golden-haired, the pride of the Calloway’s. Rathmore’s true queen.

Not this joke.

Arielle could barely eat her toast without trembling. How would she ever handle the business something Celeste had built from scratch?

Arielle June? Pfft.

If she thought she was safe here, she was dead wrong.

Arielle.

Arielle’s hands trembled as she placed the empty coffee cup back on its saucer. She had barely eaten. The tension in the room made every bite feel like it would choke her, so she forced herself to sip water, to sit still, to be unseen. But now, she had endured enough. She set her napkin down gently and pushed her chair back, careful to move without making a sound. The moment she stood, a familiar voice cut through the room. “You can’t leave.” Arielle froze.

Celeste sat elegantly, stirring her coffee like this was her kingdom like Arielle was an intruder. “I don’t even want to be here.” Arielle swallowed her thought, gripping the edge of her chair instead. “I—I thought we were finished.” Celeste smiled, but it was sharp. Not friendly. “You don’t get up until everyone is done,” she said sweetly. “It’s house rules.” Arielle’s pulse pounded.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Who makes such ridiculous rules?” her thoughts spiralled.

She glanced toward Lyzander, unsure if she should still sit or ignore Celeste entirely. Who was deliberately getting on her nerves, and this house made her realize she had alot of those lately. Like everywhere she turned someone was either poking, smirking, or… poker.

Him.

Shit! She’d been staring for too long and he said nothing. Her cheeks burned out of embarrassment. She watched his fingers tap against the table once, a flicker of irritation passing through his eyes, before looking back at the hot chocolate before him.

“Really? Celeste? Since when do we have ‘house rules’ about breakfast etiquette?” Rodnivsky said light-heartedly, trying to cut through the tension. Arielle wondered if she pronounced the name correctly.

“Since now,” Celeste responded. She felt every pair of eyes on her. Her stomach twisted. At what point does she disappear? She thought. Slowly, she sank back into her seat. Celeste gave a satisfied little nod and continued drinking her coffee.

Then Lyzander stood. Without a word, He adjusted his watch, grabbed his cane, and walked from the dining room as if none of it mattered. Rowan sighed dramatically.

“Well, now it’s boring in here.” He stood too, throwing Arielle an unreadable glance before following Lyzander out. Celeste took her time finishing her drink. Then, with a delicate little smirk, she turned to Arielle. “Clear the table.” Arielle’s breath caught.

The maids in swift formation went towards them.

“Not you,” Celeste snapped. making them pause and retreat.

“You, fraud,” Celeste said tone laced with venom. Looking at Arielle.

Arielle knew that feeling. It reminded her of home, Seraphina. Celeste had waited for the men to leave until it was only the two of them. Arielle hesitated, but there was no choice. Besides, it meant the dreaded breakfast was over. She pushed back her chair, hands still trembling, and quietly began collecting the dishes. She had just reached for the last cup when Celeste moved.

A slow, deliberate shift, and then, suddenly, hot coffee spilled down the front of Arielle’s dress. Arielle sucked in a sharp breath, flinching at the burn. “What?” she screamed but nothing came out, instead she watched as the liquid seeped into the soft silk, enduring the sting from the hotness the stain slowly spreading tainting the delicate fabric a deep, ugly brown.

Celeste gasped in false surprise. “Oh dear,” she murmured, not sounding sorry at all. Arielle gritted her teeth, fighting back the sting in her eyes.

“Don’t cry. Not here.”

Celeste leaned in slightly, voice low and sweet. “This dress was too pretty on you,” she whispered. “Now you look like you.” Arielle’s throat tightened.

Celeste’s heels clicked against the marble as she walked away, leaving a mess behind her. Arielle clenched her fists, breathing through the shame, the anger, the helplessness. Then a gentle touch on her arm. Arielle turned, blinking back the tears. One of the maids stood beside her, with a kind expression. “Come,” the woman murmured. “Go change. I’ll take care of this.” Arielle hesitated, her hands still shaking. But the woman nudged her gently.

“You don’t have to let her see you cry.” Arielle swallowed hard. And then, silently, she turned and left.

Arielle.

Arielle pulled the damp silk robe from her body, wincing as she caught sight of herself in the mirror. The dark coffee stain marred the beautiful fabric, a cruel reminder of Celeste’s words. "Now you look like you." A statement sharp, and deliberate. A reminder that no expensive dress could change who she was. She was the gum under the Calloway shoe. A nuisance, and now a Rathmore problem. She swallowed the lump in her throat, quickly grabbing a fresh change of clothes a simple cotton dress, nothing fancy. Just as she was slipping it over her head, the door swung open. Causing Arielle to gasp, she clutched onto that damn dress to her chest like her life depended on it. Rowan? He strolled in like it was his space.

Then, Thoughtlessly, his gaze landed on her.

He froze. Rowan, his expression wavered- a visible struggle to keep a decent composure.

Shocking.

Arielle’s cheeks burned. “Do you—do you not knock?”

Rowan blinked, then let out a low chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not usually. My bad.” She grabbed the nearest thing a pillow from the couch and threw it at him. He caught it with ease, grinning. “Alright, alright. Relax. I’m not here to peek.” Arielle turned away, yanking the dress down over her body, her pulse still racing. Rowan folded his arms gaining some sort of composure against the bed frame, watching her carefully.

“Are you okay?” he asked. Arielle said nothing. She wasn’t, he knew that but She didn’t want to talk about Celeste. Didn’t want to admit that she felt small and out of place. Rowan exhaled, shaking his head. “Look, Celeste—she’s… complicated. But if you get close to her, you’ll like her.”

Arielle turned, incredulous. “Like her?” Rowan shrugged.

“She’s not all bad.” He spoke. Arielle scoffed. “She poured coffee on me. Hot coffee.” “hot chocolate.” He corrected with a smile; Arielle didn’t find that funny. He cleared his throat “She doesn’t do well with outsiders,” Rowan said seriously.

“You have to understand that she’s been here longer than I. Meaning, She’s thick as thieves with Lyz. She’s just looking out for him.”

Arielle clenched her fists. Of course, she was. Of course, Celeste belonged here, and she didn’t. she never belonged anywhere. Rowan was looking out for his friend. She is the one who got burnt, hell the scar is still fresh, but somehow, she has to be the understanding one.

Rowan studied her for a long moment, then said, “I don’t know much about you. Arielle, right?” Arielle stiffened. Rowan’s voice was lighter this time. “You’re the Calloway sister no one ever mentioned. No parties, no ceremonies. Why?” Arielle hesitated, but something about Rowan’s gaze sharp, curious made her speak.

“You know, normal people leave when the vibe is awkward?”

Rowan wasn’t falling for her digression tactics. His eyes bore into hers so serious she cleared her throat.

“I wasn’t meant to be seen,” she said softly. Rowan raised an eyebrow. “My father--” She swallowed. “I was from his first wife. Who died the day I was born.” Rowan’s smirk faded. Arielle’s voice dropped lower. “I took his first love; I even ate my brother in the womb.” Like a bee stung her tongue she paused. She saw the hint of pity on his face.