The Stranger's Wife

Chapter-6

Aaira exhaled slowly, watching as Aarsh ran toward the outhouse. She had sent him home first, knowing whatever Arthur wanted to discuss wasn’t meant for a child’s ears. Anxiety settled in her chest like a storm cloud as she turned back to the grand estate.

After bidding Grandma Black goodnight, she followed the dimly lit path leading to the gazebo at the far end of the garden. The night air was crisp, carrying the scent of freshly bloomed roses and damp earth. Lanterns hanging from the wooden beams cast a golden glow over the space, but it was the figure standing at the center that truly held her attention.

Arthur Black.

He stood with his back to her, hands in his pockets, gazing out into the distance. Aaira noticed the stack of papers he had set on the marble bench beside him. A sense of unease slithered through her.

“I’m here,” she said, breaking the silence.

Arthur turned, his sharp gaze locking onto hers. He didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Sit.”

Aaira remained rooted to the spot. “I prefer to stand.”

His lips twitched, almost amused, but the moment passed quickly. He picked up the papers and tapped them lightly against his palm. “Do you know what these are?”

Aaira’s throat tightened. “I’m guessing you’re about to tell me.”

Arthur stepped closer, closing the space between them. “Background checks. Documents. "Proof.” He held the papers out to her. “Everything I could find about you.”

Aaira felt her blood run cold. She hesitated before snatching the top sheet and skimming the contents. Her full name, birthplace, education, marriage records—everything. He had dug into her life, into her past.

Anger flared within her. “You invaded my privacy?”

Arthur scoffed. “Privacy? You’re living in my grandmother’s house, under my family’s roof. I have the right to know who exactly I’m dealing with.”

Aaira clenched her fists. “You had no right.”

He ignored her protest. “You have a clean record", which surprised me. No fraud, no hidden motives. Just a woman at the age of 36 trying to start over. "By the way, you don’t look that aged.” He tilted his head, studying her. “But that’s where things get… interesting.”

Aaira’s breath hitched. “What do you mean?”

Arthur leaned in slightly, his voice low and deliberate. “Your husband, Adam Walt." There’s barely any trace of him.”

Aaira’s fingers trembled against the paper. “That’s none of your concern.”

“Oh, but it is,” Arthur countered. “Because if there’s one thing I hate, it’s loose ends.”

She took a step back, shaking her head. “I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

Arthur’s eyes darkened. “Are you sure about that?”

The air between them grew thick with tension. Aaira could hear the distant rustling of leaves, the faint chirp of crickets, but her focus was entirely on the man in front of her. He wasn’t just prying—he was hunting for something.

Something she wasn’t ready to share.

Arthur sighed, almost as if he was disappointed. “I don’t trust easily, Aaira. And I never trust coincidences. The fact that you ended up here, with my grandmother, in this town… it’s too neat. Too convenient.”

Aaira frowned, feeling her patience snap. “If you’re implying that I somehow planned this, then you’re mistaken. I didn’t even know who you were until yesterday.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “I don’t watch movies." "I had no idea you were some big-shot celebrity until your arrogance made it impossible to ignore.”

Something flashed across Arthur’s face—surprise, irritation, amusement? She couldn’t tell.

“You don’t watch movies?” he repeated, as if the concept was foreign to him.

Aaira folded her arms. “I was busy living my life. Raising my son. I didn’t have time to follow Hallywod’s golden boy.”

Arthur smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “How refreshing.”

Aaira narrowed her gaze. “You’re angry because I didn’t recognize you?”

Arthur shook his head, his expression unreadable. “No. "I’m angry because something about you doesn’t add up.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “And I will figure out what it is.”

Aaira held her ground, refusing to let him intimidate her. “Good luck with that.”

Arthur studied her for a long moment before finally stepping back. Aaira thought the conversation was finally over. The weight of Arthur’s suspicion, the unnerving way he seemed to peel back layers of her past, had left her drained. She turned on her heel, ready to escape to the solitude of her home.

But just as she took a step forward, his deep voice stopped her.

"One second, Miss Han."

She clenched her fists before slowly turning back. "What now?"

Arthur stood under the dim glow of the lanterns, his expression unreadable. But then, a smirk played on his lips, one that sent an uneasy shiver down her spine.

"Have you forgotten something?" he asked.

Aaira frowned. "Forgotten what?"

He took a deliberate step forward, the papers in his hands shifting slightly. "Our conversation from yesterday. About my compensation."

Her breath caught. The money.

She forced herself to keep a neutral expression as she cleared her throat. "I thought you already got the money."

Arthur chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "And I thought you understood that I don’t settle for less."

Aaira tensed, her pulse quickening. "I have already told you, Mr. Black. I don’t have that much money. You did a background check on me, didn’t you? You should know better than anyone."

She regretted her bitter tone as soon as the words left her mouth, but Arthur only raised an eyebrow. For a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes—astonishment?—but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

"Fair point," he admitted, before tilting his head slightly, as if assessing her. "In that case… I have another offer."

Aaira narrowed her eyes. "What offer?"

Arthur leaned casually against the pillar of the gazebo, as if this entire conversation was a game to him. "Since you can’t pay me back in cash, how about you pay me back in service?"

She stiffened. "What kind of service?"

"You become my assistant while I’m here." His voice was smooth, persuasive, but there was an underlying authority that told her this wasn’t a request. "You’ll be at my beck and call. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I call, you answer. I need something, you handle it. Simple."

Aaira barely had time to process his words before she blurted out, "Fine."

Arthur blinked. "That was fast."

She exhaled, crossing her arms. "It’s better than being buried in debt."

A satisfied smirk tugged at his lips. "Then it's a deal. I’ll have a contract ready by tomorrow."

But before she could take a breath of relief, he added, "Oh, and there’s one condition."

Aaira frowned. "What condition?"

Arthur’s expression darkened slightly, his gaze sharp and unwavering. "Your current job. You’ll have to resign."

Her entire body went rigid. "Excuse me?"

Arthur shrugged nonchalantly. "You work as a chef at that tiny restaurant nearby, right? 8 AM to 3 PM. That won’t work for me."

Aaira’s hands curled into fists. "That job pays my rent and puts food on the table. You can’t just demand that I quit!"

Arthur’s smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with amusement. "I can and I just did."

Her anger flared. "You arrogant, self-absorbed—" She bit back the rest of the words, taking a sharp breath. "I am NOT resigning from my job just because you think you can control everything!"

Arthur watched her, his expression unreadable, before saying in a calm, almost lazy tone, "Then I guess we don’t have a deal."

Aaira’s chest rose and fell with her uneven breathing. She hated how easily he was backing her into a corner. But she wouldn’t let him win. Not this time.

She lifted her chin defiantly. "Then I guess we don’t."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The tension between them was thick enough to suffocate.

Then, Arthur let out a slow chuckle. "You’re an interesting woman, Miss Han. Let’s see how long you can hold out."

“Enjoy your night, Miss Han.”

Aaira turned away before she could say something she’d regret, her heart pounding with anger and something else—something far more dangerous.

Arthur stood frozen for a moment, watching Aaira’s retreating back as she stormed away, her shoulders stiff with fury. His smirk deepened, an amused chuckle slipping past his lips. “Interesting,” he murmured to himself.

She was different. Most people either feared him or bent on his will without hesitation. But Aaira? She defied him. She wasn’t intimidated by his name, his wealth, or his power and fame. And that—that intrigued him.

From the moment he had set his eyes on her, something about her had unsettled him. A part of him wanted to believe that she was innocent, that she wasn’t another scheming opportunist looking to leech off his family’s wealth. But the other part of him—the part that had been betrayed too many times—refused to trust anyone so easily.

Don’t trust anybody. The words echoed in his mind like an old mantra.

Yet, as he recalled the fire in Aaira’s eyes, the way she had snapped at him without hesitation, the way she had so fiercely refused to quit her job—he found himself wanting to push her, tease her even further. He wanted to see just how far she could hold out before she finally broke.

Would she fight until the very end? Or would she, like everyone else, eventually submit?

The thought amused him.

With a low, satisfied hum, Arthur turned on his heels and began walking back toward the mansion. His movements were slow, deliberate, his hands casually slipping into his pockets as he whistled a soft, lazy tune. The smirk never left his lips.

Tonight was entertaining. But this was only the beginning.

Aaira Han had caught his attention.

And Arthur Black wasn’t the type to let go easily.

Arthur entered the grand halls of the Black estate, the weight of the night settling heavily on his shoulders. The dim lights cast elongated shadows on the walls, and the air carried the faint scent of aged wood and lavender—his grandmother’s favorite.

As he stepped into the living room, his gaze fell upon the frail yet formidable woman seated gracefully on the plush sofa. Mrs. Black had been waiting for him, her wise, kind eyes studying him the moment he walked in.

"Come, sit beside me," she said softly, patting the space next to her.

But Arthur didn’t take the seat. Instead, he lowered himself onto the carpet at her feet, resting his head against her knees like he had done as a child. The moment her warm, gentle hand caressed his hair, something inside him cracked, just a little. The tension that had been gripping his chest loosened, and for the first time that evening, he allowed himself to feel something other than frustration.

“Are you alright, kid?” his grandmother asked, her voice laced with concern.

Arthur didn’t answer. He simply closed his eyes and let the warmth of her touch soothe the storm raging inside him.

She sighed, continuing to run her fingers through his hair. "Arthur, I know what you're thinking. "I can see the doubt in your eyes when you look at Aaira, but I want to tell you something—she is a good soul, child."

Arthur remained silent, but his brow twitched slightly. His grandmother took that as a sign to continue.

"You know, when nobody was there for me, she was," she whispered, her voice carrying a deep emotion. I met her for the first time by accident. I had fainted on the street while out for a walk, and she happened to be passing by. She didn't hesitate—not for a second. She took me to the hospital, stayed by my side, even when she didn’t know who I was. She spoke to the doctor, made sure I was taken care of, and then brought me home when I was well enough. She could have walked away, but she didn’t."

Arthur’s fingers curled into his palms. He hadn’t known any of this.

"She never asked for anything in return," his grandmother continued. Later, I found out she had nowhere to go. Her son was staying in a school dorm, and she… she was living in the storeroom of the restaurant where she worked.” Mrs. Black’s voice wavered as she recalled the memory. “Can you imagine, Arthur? "A woman, with a child to raise, sleeping in a place meant for supplies, cold and alone?”

Arthur’s jaw clenched. He had spent the entire day testing her, doubting her, thinking she was just another manipulative opportunist trying to take advantage of his family’s name. But now… now, he isn’t so sure.

“I took her in,” his grandmother said, her fingers brushing softly against his temple. That was two years ago, when she first came to Lavenham. She was mentally and physically exhausted, but she never complained. Not once. She worked hard, built a life for herself, and never gave me a reason to question her intentions. So, please, son, I ask you—spare her for me. Don’t hurt her.”

Arthur opened his eyes, staring at the intricate pattern of the carpet beneath him. Guilt. A foreign, unwelcome emotion settled in his chest. He, Arthur Black, had made his grandmother plead for someone in front of him.

He exhaled slowly, his voice rough but measured. “I’ll consider what you said, Grandma.”

Mrs. Black frowned slightly. “Arthur—”

“But I have to test her,” he cut in, lifting his head to meet her gaze. "I need to know for myself." I won’t hurt her, I promise you that, but I need to be sure.

Mrs. Black sighed, studying her grandson’s face. She saw the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between his distrust and something he wasn’t quite ready to name yet.

"Alright," she relented. "But, Arthur, don’t push too far. Not everyone is out to hurt you, my child."

Arthur didn’t respond. He simply kissed his grandmother’s hand, stood up, and walked out of the room, his mind a battlefield of conflicting thoughts.

Aaira Han… just who are you really?

As he climbed the grand staircase to his study, a smirk ghosted across his lips.

Let’s find out.

To be continued…

What tests does Arthur have in store for Aaira? And will she be able to withstand them, or will she finally break under his scrutiny? Let's find out…