Chapter 6
1153 Words
Elora sat by the window, the snow outside falling in soft, endless sheets, as if the world had decided to bury everything beneath silence. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to feel it—the illusion of peace.
Maybe this could work.
Maybe this could be real.
She picked up her phone, hesitating only slightly before opening i********:. Her fingers hovered over the screen, then moved with quiet determination.
A few pictures.
Her and Windsor.
Smiling.
Close.
Happy.
She typed slowly:
“Enjoying Switzerland with my husband. Oh, how well it is to be married.”
She stared at the caption for a second longer than necessary.
Then she posted it.
Miles away, in a grand mansion that carried more secrets than warmth, a notification lit up a phone screen.
Matilda Matthew froze.
Her eyes narrowed.
“What…?”
Her fingers trembled as she opened the post.
There it was.
Elora.
Smiling.
Standing beside Windsor.
Living a life that wasn’t hers to live.
“WHAT?!” Matilda screamed, her voice echoing through the hall.
Her breath quickened, anger rising like fire in her chest.
“Elora posted this?!” she whispered, her voice shaking with disbelief. “How could she… how could she be enjoying my life?”
Her grip on the phone tightened.
“This life was meant to be mine…”
Without another second, she turned and ran.
“Dad!!” she shouted as she burst into his office. “Dad!!”
Her father looked up, startled by the urgency in her voice.
“Matilda, what is—”
“Your illegitimate daughter,” she cut in sharply, her voice trembling with fury, “is now married to a billionaire. She’s in Switzerland… on her honeymoon!”
Silence.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
“She has her name changed,” Matilda continued, her eyes blazing. “All her certificates now read Elora Windsor.”
Her voice broke slightly—but it wasn’t sadness.
It was rage.
“Isn’t that supposed to be my life?” she demanded. “But your illegitimate daughter is enjoying everything that should have been mine!”
Her father sighed deeply, leaning back in his chair as if the weight of his choices had finally caught up with him.
“Matilda,” he said slowly, “I knew the Windsor family was rich and powerful. That’s why I wanted you to marry him.”
Matilda’s eyes widened.
“But you refused,” he continued. “You said he was cold… mean… not someone you could live with. So I made a decision.”
A pause.
Sharp.
Cold.
“I gave Elora to him.”
The words hung in the air like a sentence.
“Not because I love her,” he added flatly. “But because I needed that contract.”
Matilda’s expression changed.
Not shock.
Not pain.
Something darker.
“Don’t worry, Dad,” she said slowly, her voice now calm—too calm. “I see you can’t help me.”
She turned.
And walked out.
Minutes later, she stood alone in her room, dialing a number.
Her reflection stared back at her in the mirror—cold, calculating, and no longer pretending.
The call connected.
“This is Matilda Matthew,” she said, her voice smooth but deadly. “I am the legitimate daughter of the Matthew family.”
She paused, letting the words settle.
“The illegitimate one is in Switzerland… with my husband, Mr. Windsor.”
Her lips curled slightly.
“I want you to do everything in your power to make her life miserable.”
A faint voice responded from the other end.
Matilda’s smile widened.
“I’ll pay you any amount,” she continued. “Once the job is done.”
The call ended.
And with it—
Any chance of peace.
Back in Switzerland, the cold air bit harder than before.
Inside the resort, Windsor adjusted his coat as he made his way to the reception.
“Can I get a cappuccino?” he asked calmly. “For my wife.”
The receptionist nodded. “Of course, sir.”
Everything seemed normal.
Too normal.
But as Windsor waited, a strange unease crept into his chest.
He glanced at his phone.
No messages.
Yet something felt…
Wrong.
Upstairs, Elora stood alone in the room.
The silence pressed in on her.
She walked slowly toward the bouquet again, her eyes fixed on it.
That note.
Enjoy your honeymoon.
A soft knock echoed from the door.
She froze.
“Windsor?” she called cautiously.
No answer.
Another knock.
Slower this time.
More deliberate.
Her heart pounded.
“Who is it?” she asked.
Silence.
Then—
The handle began to turn.
Elora’s breath caught.
The door creaked open.
And standing there—
Was a hotel staff member.
Or at least…
That’s what the uniform suggested.
“Ma’am,” the person said politely. “Room service.”
Elora frowned slightly. “I didn’t order anything—”
“Complimentary,” the person interrupted with a smile.
Something felt off.
But before she could react, the person stepped inside.
Too quickly.
Too confidently.
The door shut behind them with a soft click.
Elora took a step back.
“I think there’s been a mistake—”
“There’s no mistake,” the person said.
The smile vanished.
The voice changed.
Colder.
Sharper.
And then—
Everything happened at once.
A cloth.
Pressed against her mouth.
Elora struggled, her eyes wide with terror.
“No—!”
But the scent hit her instantly.
Her strength faded.
Her vision blurred.
The last thing she saw—
Was the person removing their disguise.
And whispering softly:
“Courtesy of Matilda.”
Downstairs, Windsor took the cappuccino, nodding his thanks.
But that uneasy feeling hadn’t left.
It had grown.
He started walking back toward the room, his steps quickening without him realizing it.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
He reached the door.
It was slightly open.
His heart skipped.
“Elora?” he called, pushing it open.
Silence.
The room was empty.
The bouquet lay scattered on the floor.
The window was slightly ajar.
And the air—
Felt wrong.
Windsor’s grip tightened around the cup.
“Elora…?”
No answer.
Then—
His phone buzzed.
He froze.
Slowly, he pulled it out.
A message.
Unknown number.
He opened it.
A video.
His breath stopped.
On the screen—
Elora.
Unconscious.
Being dragged into a dark vehicle.
And a voice in the background said:
“You should have married the right woman.”
The video ended.
Windsor’s expression changed.
Not shock.
Not fear.
Something far more dangerous.
Rage.
Cold.
Controlled.
Deadly.
He clenched his jaw, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“Nobody messes with my wife”.
Then slowly, he looked up—
And for the first time—
Windsor didn’t look like a man in love.
He looked like a man about to start a war.
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