Chapter 3: Revealing the Past
857 Words
Clara’s POV
Jordan's attitude was as cold as the dining room. As I prodded my food, I could feel his piercing eyes on me.
"Do you intend to eat that way each morning?" Jordan's tone was harsh as he asked.
Confused, I looked up. "What do you mean?"
He made an ambiguous motion. Poor posture and lack of appetite. It is expected of you to appear... presentable. This isn't your average diner.
I twitched and put down my fork. "I was unaware that there was a dress code for breakfast."
Jordan's face was unreadable as he raised an eyebrow. Clara, appearances count. It is best if you realize that as soon as possible.
"Is appearance important?" I couldn't help but repeat. "Like how you treat me like a bother, but it looks like a perfect marriage?"
His jaw tensed, but he remained silent. There was a strain in the silence that hung between us.
I got up and said, "Perhaps you could concentrate on not being so... unbearable instead of criticizing me."
Jordan's mouth raised as if he wanted to smile, but he refrained. "You possess spirit. Let's observe its duration.
I was browsing through my phone later that afternoon when I felt sick to my stomach.
"Gold-Digger Bride: Who Is Clara Marshall?" was the headline.
I opened the article with shaky hands. It implied that I had married Jordan because of his wealth and was full of references to my family's financial difficulties.
As I read the remarks, my eyes burned with tears.
“Just another social climber,” I said.
"I'm stuck with her, poor Jordan."
I gasped and slammed my phone down. How could this have been done?
An alert appeared. The story had been leaked by an anonymous tip. Veronica was the first person that came to mind. Her self-satisfied grin during the wedding, her nuanced remarks... She had to be the one.
My phone buzzed before I could continue to ponder. Jordan sent the text:
"Please come to my office. Right now.
It felt like a death march as we made our way to Jordan's office. A door that was slightly open attracted my attention as I moved through the lengthy hallways of the estate.
My curiosity overcame me, and I looked inside. The little, dusty room was crammed with faded pictures and rusty toys. There was a lone rocking rocker beside the window, sitting still.
"Having fun?"
Jordan was standing behind me when I turned around and jumped. Despite his icy attitude, there was anguish visible.
I stumbled, "I didn't mean to intrude."
As he entered the room, he looked about it as if it were a battlefield. He said, "This was my mother's room."
I blinked, taken aback by his openness. "Your mom?"
He tightened his jaw and nodded. When I was ten, she departed. Walked away and never returned.
I was at a loss for words. The echoes of a broken past suddenly entered the room, making everything feel heavier.
He went on in a harsh voice, "She left a note." "Said she was unable to cope with the stress of this life."
"I apologize," I muttered.
Jordan's sharp gaze moved to face me. "Avoid becoming. Whenever things get difficult, people always leave. It's simply the way things are.
He turned and left me alone in the ghost of his memories before I could reply.
We went to a charity gala that night. Even though there was a lot of conversation and glass clinking, I felt alienated.
Jordan told us to stay close as we went inside. "Don't do anything to make me or you look bad."
I suppressed a scathing response and trailed after him.
As the evening went on, a bunch of socialites surrounded me. Their comments were sharp, yet their smiles were courteous.
One of them added, "So, Clara," in a soft voice, "how does it feel to marry into such... wealth?"
One more person said, "It must be overwhelming." "Especially for a person with your... history."
I gave them a forced smile, not wanting them to be pleased when I faltered. "It's an adjustment," I said in a composed manner. "But I'm sure I can handle the situation."
One of them was about to respond when Jordan showed up beside me, his face unreadable.
"If you will pardon us, ladies," he said with a charming accent.
With his hand on the small of my back, he guided me out. As we proceeded, he acknowledged, "You handled that well."
I was taken aback by the compliment and replied, "Thanks."
His eyes softened slightly for the first time. It was there, but it was brief.
As we left the gala, I overheard a voice.
“She won’t last long here,” Veronica said, her tone low but unmistakable.
My heart raced as I peeked around the corner. She was on the phone, her expression smug.
“Don’t worry,” she continued. “I’ve got it all under control.”
Who was she talking to? A
nd what did she mean? My blood ran cold as I realized I was more alone in this than I had thought.
- Writer
