Bought by Marriage

Chapter 6:

Natalia’s POV:

The long walnut dining table gleamed beneath the crystal chandelier, its polished surface reflecting scattered shards of light like fallen stars casting a cold, majestic glow across the entire room. The blue-velvet chairs were perfectly aligned, so immaculate they made the dining hall look more like an exhibit painting than a place meant for people to gather.

The dishes I had prepared with such care were still steaming: cream soup scented with rosemary, pasta with red wine sauce, and a pan-seared steak seasoned exactly to his taste. The aroma drifted softly through the air, mingling with the faint woody scent of the table, creating a warmth so gentle it hurt, a warmth that existed only because I had built it with my own hands, while the response to it… was completely empty.

At the far end of the table, two glasses of wine I had poured shimmered under the lights, their dark-red hues like the slow bleeding of a heart.

I stepped back a few paces, taking in the perfect dinner I had spent the entire afternoon preparing. Everything was delicate, elegant enough to become a moment of happiness, if only he would sit down with me.

The dining room was so large that my footsteps echoed faintly, making the loneliness settle deeper into my chest as I stood in a space far too beautiful… too spacious… and too cold.

Noah and my father-in-law were eating the meal I had prepared. When they heard Edward’s cold words earlier, they rushed over.

“Sister-in-law! Are you okay?” Noah caught me just as my knees nearly buckled.

My father-in-law’s hands trembled with rage. “Natalia… tell me. Edward bullied you again, didn’t he? That boy is truly too much!”

Just that one sentence was enough to bring down the fragile wall I had been holding up. Tears streamed down my cheeks, hot and stinging.

“Father… why does Edward hate me so much?”

Jonathan froze. His broad shoulders lowered, burdened by years of unspoken weight. He let out a long, heavy sigh that tightened something deep in my chest.

“He doesn’t hate you…” his voice turned rough. “He hates me.”

I stared at him. “Father… what do you mean?”

“It’s a long story.” He turned away, his figure carrying a loneliness that made my heart ache. “To put it simply… Edward is taking out all of his hatred on you.”

He walked back into the mansion, his silhouette hunched in the evening breeze, as if he had aged decades in an instant.

I remained alone in the garden, the same garden I once dreamed would be where he and I would walk hand in hand. Even the Belladonna sprouts I had nurtured with such tenderness suddenly felt cruel.

How naïve I had been…

Noah had been standing beside me at some point, his gaze softening when he saw how lost I looked.

“Maybe… you should know something.” His voice was quiet. “I’m Edward’s half-brother.”

I looked up at Noah. He shared certain features with Edward, yet the warmth in his eyes was the complete opposite.

“Because I existed… his family’s happiness fell apart,” Noah whispered. “His biological mother couldn’t bear the shock… and she passed away. Since then, the hatred in Edward’s heart has only grown.”

I fell silent. The final painful piece of the puzzle between us slid into place.

“Noah… I understand now,” I said softly. “But Father and you suffered just as much. Why does Edward keep punishing himself like this?”

Noah let out a wry smile, tinged with sorrow. “Maybe time will make him see things clearly. So… you have to believe in him.”

I closed my eyes for a second, then nodded faintly. “Yes. I believe… Edward will come to understand.”

I managed a small smile for Noah. “Thank you.”

His smile gentled, warming the air between us just a little. “The Belladonna you planted has sprouted. You’re really good at this.”

I let out a shaky laugh, my voice trembling with emotion.

Noah looked at the fiery red buds, his expression distant, as if speaking to himself: “This flower is like love… dazzling, burning… but sometimes it chills you to the bone.”

I bent down, brushing a fingertip along the edge of a tender leaf. “That’s true.”

Noah remained silent for a long moment before speaking so softly it felt less like a statement and more like a warning. “But there’s something you still don’t know…”

I lifted my gaze, startled. Noah’s eyes were deep, unreadable.

“Belladonna is beautiful because it’s poisonous,” he said slowly. “When its toxins seep into the body… they lead to despair. Just like love, once it’s poisoned all the way to the core, there’s no saving it.”

I looked at Noah, then at the Blood-red Belladonna buds swaying in the late-afternoon breeze. A chill ran down my spine like my heart itself had been dipped into that same poison.

…

Half a year later,

“You’re four weeks pregnant.”

The words rang through my chest like a bell struck pure and bright. For an instant, the whole world lit up like someone had thrown open a door to brilliant sunlight. I… was pregnant. Our child. Joy rose so quickly it made my eyes sting, but immediately afterward, a quiet, trembling fear fluttered into my heart fragile like a small bird barely landing in my palm before wanting to fly away again.

The doctor continued speaking about nutrition, check-ups, precautions. His lips moved, his voice steady and calm, but none of the words reached me. Everything was muffled behind a soft haze, only the phrase “You’re four weeks pregnant” echoing endlessly like an unfinished melody.

When I stepped out of the clinic, even the wind brushing my skin made me want to smile. I walked with my hand drifting instinctively to my lower abdomen a gesture so natural it startled me. Somewhere deep inside, a tiny life was growing. A life carrying both our blood.

I took out my phone, my fingers trembling as they hovered over Edward’s name. I wanted to tell him right away wanted to hear his voice, to share this moment with him. But the call rang… and rang… and was cut off. Again. And again. He didn’t pick up.

I pressed my lips together, willing myself to stay calm. Maybe… I should tell him in person. Look him in the eyes. A news like this deserved to be spoken with my whole heart.

Walking down the street, I stopped in front of a baby store without meaning to. Tiny white shoes, cloud-soft sweaters, rabbit-eared hats small enough to fit in the palm of a hand. My heart melted like warm wax. I stood there for a long time, imagining tiny footsteps, a first cry, a gentle future I had never allowed myself to dream of.

And for the first time in months of silence, I let myself hope, just a little.

I couldn’t wait to tell Edward. But then he didn’t come home for days.

His secretary returned briefly to pick up his belongings. When I asked, he hesitated and said Edward had business to attend to. I offered to prepare clothes and personal items for Edward, but the secretary awkwardly admitted that Edward had instructed him not to let me touch anything of his.

Understanding his discomfort, I didn’t insist, but I couldn’t stop the sting in my chest.

Watching the secretary’s car leave the estate, a heavy sadness settled over me.

I didn’t dare call Edward again, he wouldn’t answer, and if I called too many times, he would get angry. I didn’t want my child’s existence to begin in that kind of moment.

That night, tossing and turning unable to sleep, I finally gathered the courage to text him, asking when he might come home.

Silence was the only reply. He was active, but he didn’t open my message.

I sighed helplessly, placing my phone down. My hand drifted over my still-flat belly, gently. No… I couldn’t let myself be sad. It wouldn’t be good for the baby.

Time slipped by so quickly I didn’t realize how long I had been living in that constant waiting. Warm sunlight fell on the path as I walked, my hand resting on my stomach, an instinct I had developed in recent days.

I wanted so desperately to believe that this child would be the bridge between us.

I picked the freshest flowers for the bedroom, cleaned every corner. My father-in-law was in America; I had only managed to share the news with him over the phone. But Edward… I wanted to tell him myself.

And finally, the day he returned home arrived.