Dangerously Mine

Chapter 18

The car ride back was completely silent.

Jacob sat in the driver’s seat, his hands resting on the steering wheel with the same calm precision he used for everything. He did not look at me. He did not explain what had just happened in front of the cameras. I sat curled against the passenger door, my fingers clutching my leather clutch bag like a shield. I had a million questions screaming inside my head. I wanted to ask him why he did that, why he lied to the entire world, and what it meant for me. But as I glanced at his stone profile, the words dried up in my throat. I was too scared to speak. The memory of the blood in the garage was still too fresh, and the nonchalant way he moved made me feel like any question I asked would just break against a brick wall.

The television screen in the backseat of the sedan was the first place I saw it.

My face was frozen in a grainy picture. The ivory dress looked bright white against the dark grey background of the city center. Below my photo, large red letters scrolled across the bottom of the screen, breaking the news in bold lines. Then, my phone, the small, simple one Jacob had left on my nightstand earlier, started vibrating inside my leather bag. It did not stop. Every time I looked down, the screen lit up with alerts, notifications, and videos from apps I did not even know how to use.

I was everywhere. In the span of thirty minutes, my face had been sent to millions of screens. People who did not even know my name were staring at my eyes, dissecting the way I held my breath, and wondering where I had come from. The outside world had finally found me, but they had not found the real me. They had found a character named Jhannara Mikaelson.

The car moved through the massive gates of the estate, and I let out a small breath, thinking the noise would finally stop. I thought I would step back into the heavy, echoing quiet of the empty hallways.

But as the car rounded the final curve of the driveway, the front of the mansion was ablaze with light.

Every single window was glowing. The massive front doors were thrown wide open, and a loud, rhythmic hum of music was spilling out onto the stone driveway, accompanied by the bright, clinking sound of glasses and high pitched laughter. There were dozens of luxury cars parked along the lawn, their polished hoods reflecting the outdoor spotlights.

My heart did that familiar, panicked bounce against my ribs. I stared at the bright facade, my mind completely reeling. Just yesterday, this very house was a war zone. Just last night, men in black masks had broken through the doors. The maid had been killed right in the center of the room. People had died in this mansion, their blood soaking into the floors, and yet, these people were still thinking about partying. It felt sick. It felt completely insane. How could they drink and laugh in a place where lives had been ended just hours ago?

I turned to look at Jacob, my eyes wide with a mix of horror and confusion. "Jacob, what is that? Who is inside your house?"

Jacob did not look at the lights. He simply pulled the keys from the ignition, his face as flat and expressionless as it had been during the press conference. "My family," he said.

"Your family?" I babbled, my voice rising as I clutched the leather bag to my chest. "But there are so many of them. Why are they here? Did something happen? Are we in danger again?"

"No," Jacob said, opening his door. "They saw the news."

I scrambled out of my side, my heels clicking frantically against the asphalt as I hurried to catch up with his long, steady strides. When we walked through the front doors, the smell of expensive citrus cleaner from this morning was completely gone. Now, the air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, sweet champagne, and heavy perfumes.

The main living room, the exact space where the bodies had been sprawled, was packed with people. Women in shimmering silk gowns and men in velvet jackets were moving through the room, talking loudly over the music.

The moment Jacob and I stepped onto the marble floor, the loud chatter instantly stopped.

A collective gasp echoed through the room. Then, an older woman with sharp grey eyes and a massive diamond necklace stepped forward, a wide, bright smile breaking across her face.

"There she is!" the woman cried out, her voice cutting through the fading music. "The new bride!"

Suddenly, the crowd surged forward like a wave. I instinctively shrank back, trying to tuck myself behind Jacob’s shoulder, but the people were already wrapping around us. Hands, soft, manicured, and smelling of expensive lotions, reached out to touch my arms, to pat my hands, and to adjust the collar of my ivory dress.

"Congratulations, darling!" a man with a thick gold watch said, raising his glass toward me. "A Mikaelson bride. We never thought Jacob would pull it off."

"You look absolutely stunning, sweetie," another woman gushed, her face inches from mine as she inspected my skin. "The ivory suits you perfectly. Where did you two get married? Was it private? You must tell us everything!"

The congratulations came from every direction, a suffocating wall of compliments and smiles. I stood there, completely paralyzed, my mouth opening and closing without making a sound.

Married.

The word kept hitting me over and over. There had been no church. There had been no white aisle, no flowers, no vows, and no rings. I had not even known I was a bride until Jacob safe the word to a crowd of reporters an hour ago. It was a complete lie, a massive show put on for the world, but these people were celebrating it like it was the greatest truth they had ever heard.

"Thank you," I managed to whisper, my voice so small it was completely swallowed by the surrounding noise. I looked around the room, my eyes searching the crowd for a single face that looked confused or suspicious, but everyone was just smiling, drinking, and laughing.

I looked up at Jacob, silently begging him to help me, to tell them the truth, or to at least make them stop touching me. But Jacob just stood there. His hand was resting casually on the small of my back, his posture completely relaxed. He accepted their congratulations with a slow, simple nod of his head, his nonchalance acting like a shield that kept the chaos from touching him, while I was left drowning in it.

"You are a Mikaelson now." Jacob murmured, his head leaning down just enough so his breath brushed against my ear. His voice was a low, steady thread in the middle of the noise. "Play the part, Jhannara."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, my fingers tightening around my bag until my palms ached. I looked back at the sea of wealthy, smiling Mikaelsons, and for the first time since leaving the attic, I realized that the silence of this family was not just a lack of words. It was a mask they wore while they rewrote reality, and I had no choice but to wear it with them.