Chapter 4
1160 Words
Here is Chapter 4: "Lunch with the Queen Mother.Ela Parkar and Mr. Stuart Edwards". introducing Stuart's mother and deepening the tension.
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Chapter 4: Lunch with the Queen Mother
The next morning came too soon.
Ela woke to the soft hum of the housekeeper knocking on the door. A muffled voice informed her that breakfast was being served and Mrs. Victoria Edwards—the queen mother herself—would arrive by noon.
Her heart quickened.
Victoria Edwards.
The woman who ran charities like corporations, commanded social circles like kingdoms, and had eyes that reportedly saw straight through lies. And Ela… was the lie.
She stepped into the en-suite bathroom, splashed her face with cold water, and stared at herself in the mirror. The dark circles beneath her eyes betrayed her exhaustion. Her face was pale, lips colorless. She didn’t look like a new bride. She looked like a refugee in an expensive prison.
Today, she had to be perfect. Because Victoria wouldn’t just be evaluating her dress or her smile—she’d be looking for cracks. And if she saw one, the whole contract could collapse.
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By 11:30 a.m., Ela stood in the walk-in wardrobe Stuart’s assistant had arranged for her. Silk sarees, soft pastels, designer blouses—none of them were hers, but all of them were expected.
She picked a deep maroon saree with golden zari work—elegant but not flashy. Respectable. Her long hair was pulled back into a simple bun, adorned with a single white jasmine flower. No makeup except a small maroon bindi and nude lipstick.
When she stepped out of the room, she found Stuart already dressed in a light grey suit, sipping black coffee in the main lounge. For the first time, his gaze paused on her—just a second longer than necessary.
“You look… traditional,” he said, emotionless.
“I assumed your mother would prefer that.”
“She will.” He set his cup down. “Remember what we discussed—how we met, how I proposed, and why we chose a court marriage. We didn’t want media chaos. We valued intimacy. Keep your answers short, your tone soft, and for god’s sake, don’t challenge her.”
“I understand.”
Stuart studied her for a moment. “You don’t have to like her. Just survive her.”
The doorbell rang before she could reply.
The atmosphere changed instantly. Stuart stood up straighter. Ela felt her spine lock. A maid opened the grand oak door.
Victoria Edwards swept in.
She was regal in every sense—tall, dignified, with silver hair pinned in a tight chignon. Her pearl necklace glistened against her pastel blue saree. She didn’t walk—she glided. Her sharp eyes flicked around the house and then fell on Ela.
Ela stepped forward and folded her hands in a soft namaste. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Edwards.”
Victoria didn’t smile. Her gaze flicked from Ela’s bindi to her bare wrists. “No bangles?”
Ela blinked. “I thought… I kept it simple.”
“Simple is fine. But a married woman wears symbols. Sindoor, bangles, mangalsutra. Simplicity shouldn’t border on invisibility.”
Stuart stepped in, cutting the moment. “Mother, please. Come in.”
Victoria entered the drawing room, her eyes missing nothing. “This house is cold, Stuart. It always was. At least now there’s a woman in it.”
They sat down. Ela positioned herself beside Stuart on the couch, folding her hands neatly in her lap. She forced a smile when Victoria looked at her again.
“So,” the matriarch began, “how did you two meet?”
Ela glanced at Stuart, who gave her the faintest nod.
“At a charity event,” Ela began. “I was volunteering. Stuart was one of the donors. We met briefly. Spoke again later through email. And… connected.”
“Email?” Victoria raised a brow. “So modern.”
Ela flushed.
Stuart intervened, cool as ever. “We kept it private. No dates in public. I didn’t want the media involved.”
Victoria looked unconvinced. “You’ve never been impulsive. Never emotional. And now—married, without even an announcement?”
Ela’s fingers curled into her saree folds.
“I was the one who encouraged it,” she said softly. “I wanted something real. Not a social event.”
That earned her a long look.
“Hmm,” Victoria murmured. “And your family, Ela?”
Ela froze. “I… lost my parents young. My brother is recovering from a surgery.”
“You didn’t invite him to the wedding?”
“He… couldn’t travel. Medical reasons.”
Victoria’s gaze narrowed, but she said nothing more.
Lunch was announced soon after, and the trio moved to the grand dining table. Dishes were served by staff—paneer makhani, jeera rice, garlic naan, and light salads.
Victoria observed Ela during the entire meal. “Do you cook?”
“Yes,” Ela replied, “quite well. Though I doubt your chef would let me near the kitchen.”
Victoria gave a rare smile. “He wouldn’t. But I like a woman who knows how to hold a ladle.”
Stuart barely touched his food. His mind, as always, seemed somewhere else.
After dessert, Victoria stood up. “Walk with me, Ela.”
Ela followed her out to the verandah that overlooked the back garden. The rain had left the grass damp, and the air smelled of wet earth.
Victoria folded her arms and stared into the distance. “I don’t trust quick marriages.”
Ela said nothing.
“My son doesn’t open up easily. He doesn’t fall. He doesn’t love. He calculates. So I must ask you—what’s in this for you?”
Ela turned her face away slightly. “Peace. Stability. A future for my brother.”
“And Stuart?”
“He gets… an image. A wife who won’t question him. And no complications.”
Victoria looked at her sharply. “That’s what he thinks he gets. But no woman enters a man’s home without shifting something.”
“I don’t intend to shift anything, Mrs. Edwards.”
Victoria gave a tight smile. “We’ll see.”
Then, she walked back inside.
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That night, Ela stood by her bedroom window again, this time not crying—but thinking. Analyzing.
Victoria wasn’t fooled. Not entirely. She hadn’t declared war, but she hadn’t extended a hand either. She’d offered a warning.
And Stuart… he had watched the entire interaction like a bystander. Emotionless.
This wasn’t just a marriage. It was survival in a house where affection was weakness and silence was currency.
Ela made herself another promise.
She would survive Victoria Edwards.
And one day, Stuart would either regret signing that contract…
Or beg her to stay beyond it.
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