Chapter 1
926 Words
Steam curled through the bathroom in heavy waves, swallowing the mirrors and softening the edges of reality. Elora stepped out of the tub slowly, water sliding down her skin while silence wrapped around her like a rare gift.
No sharp voices.
No judgmental stares.
No reminders that she never truly belonged.
For the first time that day, she could breathe.
She reached for the towel hanging beside the sink,
Footsteps echoed outside the door.
Firm.
Measured.
Stopping directly in front of her.
Elora froze.
The handle turned.
The door opened.
Windsor walked in.
Her pulse lurched violently.
For one suspended moment, neither of them moved. Steam drifted between them like smoke after a fire, thick with tension neither wanted to acknowledge.
“Windsor!” Elora gasped, instantly crossing her arms over herself. “What’s wrong with you?!”
He closed the door behind him without urgency, his dark gaze fixed entirely on her.
“It’s my house,” he said evenly. “I don’t need permission to enter any room.”
The calmness in his voice irritated her more than shouting would have.
Elora reached for the towel hanging nearby.
“Don’t use that one.”
His voice cut through the air sharply enough to stop her hand midair.
Windsor picked up another towel from the counter and held it out to her.
“That one’s wet.”
The gesture should’ve felt considerate.
Instead, it felt unsettling.
Because he was watching her too carefully.
Like he was trying to solve something.Elora snatched the towel from him and wrapped it tightly around herself.
“You’ve seen enough. Get out.”
But Windsor didn’t move.
His expression remained unreadable, yet there was something colder beneath it tonight. Something searching.
“I want to ask you something.”
Elora let out a tired laugh. “You always do.”
His eyes locked onto hers.
“Are you really Matthew’s daughter?”
The question hit harder than it should have.
Not because it was insulting.
Because it was dangerous.
Elora’s fingers tightened around the towel.
Then she laughed again but this time, the sound cracked at the edges.
“I’m his daughter,” she said quietly. “Just not the one he wanted.”
Windsor stayed silent.
That silence pulled the truth out of her before she could stop herself.
“My sister was supposed to marry you,” Elora continued bitterly. “But she refused after hearing rumors about the great Windsor Collins.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
“They said you were ruthless,cruel,a man people feared more than respected.”
A faint smile touched her lips, empty of warmth.
“So my family offered me instead. The unwanted daughter is useful for things like that.”
For the first time since entering the room, Windsor’s expression shifted.
Only slightly.
But she noticed.
Elora swallowed hard before speaking again.
“I was born from my father’s affair,” she admitted. “My existence embarrassed them. I didn’t even have the right to use their family name growing up.”
The confession lingered heavily between them.
“And now?” she whispered. “Now I only exist because I became your wife.”
The bathroom fell silent except for the slow dripping of water.
Windsor’s gaze remained fixed on her face not with pity, not with judgment.
With recognition.
And somehow, that frightened her more.
“You remember the engagement party?” he asked suddenly.
Elora frowned.
“Why?”
“You spilled wine on me.”
Her brows knitted together. “That was an accident.”
“You gave me your handkerchief afterward.”
His tone sharpened slightly.
“Was that planned?”
For a second, Elora thought she misheard him.
Then anger exploded through her chest.
“You think I was trying to seduce you?” she asked incredulously.
Windsor didn’t answer immediately.
That hesitation was enough.
Elora stepped toward him, eyes blazing.
“You really think that highly of yourself?” she snapped. “I bumped into you by mistake! I apologized because that’s what decent people do!”
Her voice echoed through the steam-covered room.
“You think every woman is desperate for your attention?”
Something flickered across Windsor’s face then.
Not anger.
Something darker.
More personal.
But Elora was too furious to stop.
“My family may have thrown me at you like I was nothing,” she continued, breathing hard, “but I never asked for this marriage.”
The words landed harder than she intended.
A long silence followed.
Then Windsor finally spoke.
“You’re wrong about one thing.”
Elora frowned.
His gaze held hers steadily.
“You weren’t the one they offered me.”
Confusion cut through her anger.
“What?”
Windsor stepped closer not enough to touch her, but enough to make her heartbeat stumble.
“I chose you.”
The room went still.
Elora stared at him, certain she had heard wrong.
“That doesn’t make sense,” she whispered.
“It wasn’t supposed to.”
His jaw tightened slightly, as if revealing even that much irritated him.
“At the party,” he said quietly, “everyone looked at me with greed,fear, calculation.”
His eyes darkened.
“But you looked at me like I was human.”
Elora’s breath caught.
“And that,” Windsor said, voice low and dangerous, “made you impossible to ignore.”
Before she could respond,
A loud crash echoed somewhere downstairs.
Both of them turned instantly.
Then came another sound.
A scream.
Not from outside.
From inside the house.
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