The Substitute Wife Returns

Chapter 6 - The First Night

Ariana’s POV

The ride to the Blackwood mansion felt longer than it actually was.

I sat stiffly in the back seat, my hands clenched tightly on my lap, the heavy wedding ring on my finger feeling like a chain I couldn’t remove. The silence in the car was suffocating. Damien sat beside me, his presence cold and distant, like I wasn’t even there.

Not once did he look at me.

Not once did he speak.

And somehow… that was worse.

I turned my head slightly, staring out the window, watching the city lights blur past. Everything felt unreal. Just a few hours ago, I was in my room, bleeding and helpless.

Now… I was married.

Married to a man who knew I was a lie.

My chest tightened.

What have I gotten myself into?

The car finally slowed before a massive gate. It opened smoothly, revealing a long driveway lined with perfectly trimmed hedges and soft golden lights. The mansion stood ahead—grand, intimidating, untouchable.

This… was his world.

And I didn’t belong here.

The car stopped. Before I could gather myself, the driver stepped out and opened the door.

“Welcome home, sir.”

Damien stepped out first without a word.

I hesitated for a second before following, my legs slightly unsteady beneath the weight of the gown and everything else crushing down on me.

As soon as we stepped inside, the doors opened to a line of staff already waiting.

“Welcome home, Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood.”

The words hit me like a slap.

Mrs. Blackwood.

Not Ariana.

Not even myself.

I forced a small smile, nodding the way I had seen Alina do countless times. My fingers trembled slightly at my sides, but I kept my posture straight.

Act like her.

Don’t mess this up.

A woman stepped forward—elegant, composed, with sharp observant eyes.

“Dinner has been prepared, sir. Would you like it served now?”

Damien didn’t look at her. “No.”

His voice was calm… but final.

“I’m not hungry.”

My stomach twisted. I hadn’t eaten all day, but the thought of food made me feel sick anyway.

The woman’s gaze shifted briefly to me—studying, calculating—before she nodded. “Understood.”

Damien turned and started walking without checking if I was following.

Of course… I had to follow.

I gathered my dress slightly and walked after him, trying to keep up. The mansion felt endless—marble floors, tall ceilings, walls lined with art that probably cost more than my entire existence.

Every step echoed.

Every step reminded me—

You don’t belong here.

We finally stopped in front of a large double door.

My heart skipped.

The bedroom.

Damien opened the door and walked in.

I followed slowly… then froze.

The room was huge. Larger than anything I had ever seen. A king-sized bed sat at the center, perfectly made, untouched. The soft lighting gave it a calm, almost intimate feeling.

Too intimate.

My fingers tightened around the fabric of my gown.

This is… his room.

Our room.

My breathing became uneven.

Damien loosened his tie, his back facing me, completely unbothered by my presence—or maybe deliberately ignoring it.

I stayed near the door, unsure what to do, my mind racing.

Should I speak?

Should I ask?

Should I—

“Stop standing there like a statue.”

His voice cut through the silence.

I flinched slightly.

“I…” My voice came out softer than I intended. “I wasn’t sure—”

“Of what?” He turned to face me.

His eyes locked onto mine.

Sharp. Cold. Knowing.

My throat tightened.

“Where… I should stay.”

The room fell quiet again.

For a moment, he just stared at me. Then his gaze dropped briefly—to my trembling hands, to my pale face—before returning to my eyes.

Something flickered there.

Gone just as quickly.

“Relax,” he said flatly. “I’m not interested in touching a fraud.”

The words hit harder than I expected.

I lowered my gaze immediately. “I understand.”

Of course.

Why would he be?

I was just a replacement.

A temporary fix.

Nothing more.

Damien walked past me toward the couch at the far end of the room. He shrugged off his suit jacket and placed it aside before loosening his sleeves.

“I’ll stay here.”

I blinked, surprised.

“You’ll take the bed.”

I looked up at him, confused. “But—”

“That wasn’t a suggestion.”

His tone left no room for argument.

I swallowed the rest of my words and nodded slowly. “Okay…”

I walked toward the bed, my steps hesitant, almost afraid. Sitting down carefully, I felt the softness beneath me, but it brought no comfort.

Only tension.

Everything felt wrong.

I clasped my hands together, staring at them.

“Damien…” I spoke before I could stop myself.

Silence.

I hesitated, then continued softly. “Thank you… for earlier.”

For not exposing me.

For not ruining everything.

For… letting this continue.

There was a pause.

Then—

“Don’t misunderstand.”

His voice was low, emotionless.

“I didn’t do it for you.”

My chest tightened.

“I did it because a scandal would be inconvenient.”

Of course.

I nodded slowly, even though he wasn’t looking at me.

“I see…”

Why did that still hurt?

The room fell into silence again.

Heavy. Suffocating.

I lay down slowly, turning away from him, pulling the blanket over myself. My body felt exhausted, but my mind refused to rest.

Behind me, I could hear faint movements—the rustle of fabric, the soft creak of the couch as he sat.

We were in the same room.

Yet miles apart.

My eyes burned slightly, the familiar pressure building behind them.

No…

Not now.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to hold it in.

Not here.

Not in front of him.

But the pain lingered—sharp, constant, reminding me of everything I was running from.

Of everything waiting for me.

Darkness.

Silence.

Death.

A tear slipped quietly down my temple into the pillow.

I didn’t wipe it.

I didn’t move.

I just lay there… pretending I was okay.

Pretending I wasn’t breaking.

Behind me, the room remained quiet.

Too quiet.

And for a brief moment—

I couldn’t tell if Damien was asleep…

Or watching me in the dark.