CHAPTER FIVE
1303 Words
Ivy
I had never seen a man like Dorian Vale before.
When Richard dragged me into his office that night, I expected a monster. I expected someone old. Someone cruel. Someone with dead eyes and a cold smile.
But he was nothing like that.
He was worse.
He stood tall in front of the floor to ceiling windows, silent and still. He was six foot four, and his presence filled the whole room even though he did not move. Every small motion he made was slow and controlled, like a predator that never wasted energy.
He was coldly handsome. His hair was jet black and pushed back from his face. His features were sharp and perfect, but they held no warmth. His eyes were pale gray and completely empty, as if they belonged to someone who had forgotten what emotions felt like. A thin, almost unnoticeable scar cut through his left eyebrow, but it only added to the ruthless precision of his face.
He wore an immaculate black suit tailored like armor. It was not wrinkled, nothing was out of place.
When his eyes finally landed on me, there was no warmth in them. They only assessed me as if deciding whether I mattered at all.
And yet… I did not fear him.
I feared Uncle Richard more than this man who now owned my future. That thought surprised me, but it was the truth. Richard’s voice, Richard’s hands, Richard’s anger… those were the things that lived in my nightmares.
Dorian Vale did not look at me with hatred. He did not look at me with anything at all. His eyes moved over me like he was checking a puzzle. He studied me the way someone studies a problem they do not care to solve. I could tell he already decided I was not important. And that alone made him feel safer than anything I had known in years.
I should have been terrified of him.
Everyone said he was cursed.
Everyone said his wives died.
But fear had a limit. And Richard had used up all of mine.
Dorian signed the agreement and that was it. My fate was sealed.
My wedding was in three days.
The next three days passed in a blur.
They gave me a room in the penthouse. A real room. With a window and a bed that did not sink in the middle. Fresh clothes were delivered. Soft sweaters, dresses and even shoes.
No one hit me when I dropped a glass by accident. No one yelled when I walked too slowly. No one called me names.
It was confusing.
My hands kept shaking out of habit. Every time someone spoke too loudly, my heart jumped. But no one raised a hand on me.
Dorian hardly spoke to me during those three days. He worked late into the night. His door stayed closed. Marcus checked on me instead, always polite but distant.
And just like that, the wedding day came.
There were no flowers. No music. No guests. No celebration.
The ceremony took place in a cold room inside a small courthouse. The woman behind the desk looked bored as she spoke. Dorian wore a black suit. I wore a simple white dress one of the maids left on my bed that morning. It hung loose on me because I was too thin.
When Dorian signed the paper, he barely looked up.
When I signed next, my hands shook so badly the pen almost fell.
Marcus stood behind us with his arms crossed, watching everything with sharp eyes.
The ceremony lasted five minutes.
That was it.
Afterward, Dorian turned to Marcus and said, coldly. “Take her to the estate.”
Then he walked away.
Just like that.
I did not know if I should feel relieved or abandoned.
Marcus drove me out of the city in a black car with windows so dark I could not even see outside. He did not talk much. But he was gentle in the way he explained things.
“You will live at the estate,” he said. “It is safer. Staff are there. Security too.”
“Will Dorian be there?” I asked softly.
“Sometimes,” he replied.
“What does that mean?”
Marcus sighed. “He comes and goes. He does not stay in one place for long.”
I nodded and held my bag tighter.
The drive took almost an hour. The roads grew darker. Fewer lights, fewer cars. The trees on both sides looked like tall shadows reaching towards the sky.
Then I saw it.
A massive gothic mansion sitting on a hill, surrounded by iron gates and stone statues. It looked like something from an old storybook.
It has dark windows and tall towers. And it was too quiet.
My chest tightened. I had never lived anywhere like this.
The car passed through the gates. Guards nodded as we drove by. Their eyes followed us.
When we reached the front steps, a woman waited for us.
She was small and older, with silver hair pulled into a neat bun. Her expression was calm. Her hands were clasped in front of her.
Marcus opened my door. “This is Mrs Chen,” he said. “She is the head housekeeper.”
I stepped out slowly. The cold air hit my face and made me shiver.
Mrs Chen looked me over, her eyes were sharp but kind. “Welcome, Mrs Vale.”
My heart skipped. Mrs Vale? It felt like a dream.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“Come,” she said softly. “I will show you inside.”
We stepped into the mansion.
The inside was even bigger than I imagined. Wide halls. Marble floors. Paintings in heavy gold frames. And tall chandeliers that sparkled cold light across the ceilings.
Every footstep echoed off the walls.
I wrapped my arms around myself as we walked. The place felt too big for someone like me. Too elegant and way too expensive. As if I did not belong and the walls knew it.
Mrs Chen led me through the main hall. “This estate has strict rules,” she said as we walked. “Everyone follows them. These rules exist for safety reasons.”
I nodded quickly. “I will follow them.”
“I hope so,” she said.
Her tone changed immediately. It became soft but dark at the same time.
Marcus stood silently behind us.
Mrs Chen stopped at a stairway and turned to face me fully. “Rule number one. You do not leave your room at night unless someone calls for you.”
I swallowed. “Why?”
“Because it is dangerous,” she said simply.
Dangerous. Noted.
“Rule number two. Do not enter the west wing. It is locked for a reason.”
My fingers tightened on my bag. “What is in there?” I asked out of fear.
Mrs Chen shook her head. “None of your business.”
My stomach turned.
“Rule number three,” she continued. “When Mr Vale speaks, listen with care. He has a temper. It does not show often. But when it does, it is not something you want pointed at you.”
I lowered my eyes. “I understand.”
She studied me for a moment, then took a small step closer. Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“I have seen many girls come to this house,” she murmured. “Some were strong. Some were scared. Some were foolish.”
My heart pounded faster.
She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice so that only I could hear.
“Be smart, my dear. Be very smart. Because the last girl only lasted two months.”
My breath caught in my throat.
Two months!
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