Chapter 5
1256 Words
Emma's POV
A week later
What was more ironic than holding a bouquet of white roses?
Symbols of purity and new beginnings when the only thing I felt was the painful sting of betrayal.
I stood at the heavy wooden doors of the church, waiting for the music to start so I would walk down the aisle.
My father stood beside me, his arm looped through mine.
“Emma,” He murmured as he leaned in closer to me, “Smile, sweetheart. It's your wedding day.”
Smile? As if this was some fairytale moment and not a transaction?
Only two days ago, I'd woken up in a sterile hospital room and now, here I was about to walk down the aisle and marry the man who'd dismantled our lives.
So I said nothing in response.
Finally, the music began and we stepped forward.
The aisle looked endless and it was lined with faces I had never seen before; distant relatives who'd materialised out of nowhere and a few of Charles' business partners.
As we walked down the aisle, I kept my eyes on the carpet, preferring to look at the intricate designs of it than the pity or judgment in people's gazes.
But as we progressed, my eyes flicked to David standing in the front of pew, his fingers intertwined with Nala's.
Nala leaned in to whisper to him but I looked away quickly, turning my eyes to the altar where my soon-to-be husband stood tall in a black tailored tuxedo.
His steel grey eyes were locked on me and they lacked the little measure of warmth I’d first seen at the restaurant.
As I ascended the shallow steps of the altar, he extended a hand which I took reluctantly.
The vows came next,
"Do you, Charles Hawthorne Grayson, take this woman, Emma Louise Collins, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”
Charles' voice was firm, “I do,”
When it was my turn, the words got stuck in my throat.
“I…I do,” I managed to say.
The rings followed. While his was a simple gold band, mine was a stunning solitaire diamond and as he slid it into my finger, his eyes held mine.
And when it was my turn, my fingers shook so badly, I almost dropped the ring.
“Easy, princess,” Charles said, amused, “It’s just formality,”
“And now you may kiss the bride,”
I held my breath. Kiss him? No way again but he did not hesitate. He drew me closer then his lips met mine.
And just like that it was done. Emma Collins was gone.
Now, Mrs. Grayson.
When the reception was over and it was finally time to go home, I was grateful. The only thing I wanted was to fall into bed and cry.
The limousine ride back to the Grayson mansion was done in silence. I immediately turned to the window when I slid into the car, trying to keep my mind from how constricting the wedding dress was.
Charles settled beside me, so close out tights touched. Thankfully, he said nothing.
But I could feel his gaze on me.
As for me, I kept my gaze fixed outside.
When the car glided to a stop infront of the monstrous building, Charles stepped out and rounded to my side.
“Mrs. Grayson,” He said with a hand extended. I ignored him and stepped down on my own. My heels wobbled and I pitched forward, arms flailing for balance but strong caught my elbow just in time.
“Careful,”
“I can manage,”
Reginald, the butler from before appeared at the top of the steps.
“Welcome home, sir. Madam.” He said with a slight bow, “Mrs. Grayson, if you'll allow me to introduce myself properly – Reginald Hargrove, at your service. Should you need anything, day or night, I am at your disposal.”
I nodded slightly as Charles placed a hand at the small of my back. I stiffened and stepped away from him.
He didn't push it but he had a smirk on his face.
Inside, two women awaited us just beyond he foyer, dressed in neat uniforms.
The older one with jet black hair that was pulled into a tight bun stepped forward as we approached.
“A pleasure to finally meet you, madam,” She said warmly as she curtsied. “I'm Eleanor, head housekeeper. This is Gloria, my assistant. We'll be taking care of you during your time here.”
The younger woman curtsied too, “We've prepared everything just as the master ordered,”
Charles nodded approvingly, “They're the best. If you need anything, they're your go to.”
I managed a smile so I would not come off as rude.
“Shall we get you settled? It has been a long day,”
Charles watched as we moved towards the grand staircase, “Good night, Emma,”
I did not respond as we ascended. Eleanor led the way down a wide hallway.
“The east wing is yours,” She explained. “Private sitting room, walk-in closets, and the master suite, of course. Mr. Grayson has his own adjoining room, but there's a connecting door if you wish it open or closed.”
My stomach twisted at the implication but I remained quiet.
We approached a set of double doors at the end of the hall and Eleanor pushed them ope, revealing a breathtaking room.
A king sized four poster bed sat in the middle draped in silk cream linens.
A vanity sat against one wall, stocked with perfume and jewellery I doubted I would ever use.
A chaise lounge overlooked French doors leading to a balcony.
“You know, this room once belonged to another woman. She lived here for a time, but one day, she simply packed her things and left. No note, no explanation. Till now, nobody except Mr. Grayson knows why she went. He doesn't speak of it, and we don't pry. But the room's been freshened up for you,” Eleanor said as we entered.
“Thank you for telling me,”
“Let me help you with your dress,”
With swift hands, Eleanor helped me out of the wedding dress, folding it over her arm, “There now. I've already prepared a bath for you. Towels are warmed, and there's a robe on the hook. I'll leave you to it. I'll be back in thirty minutes time to check if you need anything,”
“Thank you, Eleanor,” She squeezed my arm before she left.
Alone at last, I wandered around the room, trailing my fingers over the polished dresser. On a table by the windkw, there was a little antique music box. Its lid had a mother of pearl. Curious, I picked it up and turned it over in my hands.
As I lifted it higher to examine, my elbow bumped on the edge of the table, and a stack of books toppled to the floor.
“Damn,” I muttered as I kneeled to gather them up. One book fell open and something fell out of its pages.
It was a photograph, yellowed at the edges.
My heart stopped as I reached for it.
What was my mother's picture doing here?
- Writer
