THE MASTER’S BRIDE

FIFTH(WHERE IT ALL BEGINS)

CHAPTER 5

“Hello, good evening,” a hesitant voice broke the silence as the door creaked open. Alia peered into the dim corridor, “It’s really late—are there any issues? The way you banged the door frightened me,” she said, her voice laced with genuine concern.

At the doorway stood Marco, his expression a tangled mix of anger and hurt. “Do you want to speak to your father?” Alia asked softly, hoping to bridge the widening gap between them. But Marco only stood there, eyes burning with a mix of resentment and disbelief.

“I—I need to go back to bed,” Alia muttered, her voice low and shaky. “Do you have something to say?”

Alia’s heart ached at his silence and fierce look. “Please, Marco, talk to me. I just want to understand—what’s going on?” she pleaded, taking a tentative step forward.

Marco’s eyes flashed as he retorted, “Wow, you sure deserve accolades, Alia! I think I need a lesson from you on how you managed to coin yourself into my father’s life. You bewitched him, didn’t you?” His words, laced with venom, cut through the quiet hallway.

He continued, his tone rising in anger, “I’ve been wondering—how, in a twinkle of an eye, did you become my father’s wife? Do you really believe that once you get into his bed, you’re entitled to a share of his inheritance? If that’s what you think, then you must be a joker.”

Marco’s laughter, cold and malicious, filled the corridor. “Over my dead body will I let you have a share of his wealth!” he spat. “I advise you to enjoy what little you have now, because mark my words—I will drag you back to the slums my father rose from. You’re nothing but a gold-digger, and I’ll ensure you leave this mansion with not even a metal coin to your name!”

At these words, Alia’s body trembled. Tears welled up, and she could barely stammer, “Oh, Father… you’re here on time—I just came to say hi to my step-mom…” Marco’s words cut deep as he turned to his Father who was standing behind him.

Without another word, Marco turned on his heel and stormed away, leaving behind an echo of bitter anger. Moments later, the bedroom door clicked shut. Mr. Gael, who had been silently absorbing the chaos, stepped in. Before anyone could react, he closed the door behind him, sealing off the confrontation.

Alia, overwhelmed and trembling, rushed into her husband’s arms. Her tears cascaded freely as she buried her face in his comforting embrace. “Oh, my darling, what is the matter? Did Marco say something to hurt you?” Mr. Gael’s voice was gentle, almost pleading, as he stroked her hair.

“I… I don’t understand,” she choked out between sobs. “It hurts so much.”

“Listen to me,” he murmured softly, “don’t let their words break you. You must be strong. Many will try to get under your skin, especially my sons, but you must stand tall. Prove to them that I made no mistake in choosing you as my wife. Remember, they don’t truly hate you—they’re just envious of how fortunate you are.” He leaned in and planted a tender kiss on her forehead, trying to soothe her pain.

After a few moments, when the immediate storm of emotions subsided, Alia managed a shaky, “Thank you, honey. I feel a little better now.” They held each other for a long time, the silence between them filled with unspoken promises of protection and love.

Days turned into weeks, yet the chill that had settled over the mansion seemed unyielding. The once vibrant halls now felt heavy with a somber quiet. On a cool afternoon, when the mansion was usually serene at noon, Alia stood alone on the balcony of her matrimonial bedroom. Dressed elegantly but with a forlorn expression, she surveyed the vast grounds with tired eyes.

Her thoughts turned inward as she whispered to the wind, “I promised my mother on her deathbed that I would live happily ever after. Yet, here I am—bound by promises I never asked for, lost in a life I didn’t choose.” A single tear traced a path down her cheek. “I was happier when I was just a maid, free and unburdened,” she admitted silently. “I thought the Master’s proposal would bring me joy, but instead, I feel trapped—haunted by threats from his sons and the constant judgment of everyone around me. All I want is to be loved and respected. Is that too much to ask?”

A deep, resolute sigh escaped her. “I can’t keep living like this, feeling like a lonely mistress,” she declared to herself. “I must find a way to reclaim my happiness. I am, after all, the wife of a billionaire—if I must, I’ll turn this pain into power. I will fix my crown and rule my own destiny, regardless of who likes me or not.”

Later that evening, after a sparse dinner filled with strained conversation, Alia made her way to her husband’s study. The room was dimly lit, with only the soft hum of a desk lamp breaking the silence. Mr. Gael sat behind his large mahogany desk, reviewing documents, his face etched with quiet determination.

“My darling, do you need anything?” he asked gently as she approached.

With a spark of determination mingled with vulnerability, she climbed onto his lap and said, “Honey, I’ve been thinking… It’s time I got a driver and had my credit card activated. Being your wife—not just any wife, but a billionaire’s wife—I need to meet your standards. I’m tired of everyone saying I’m not good enough for you.” Her voice trembled with both hope and sadness as she looked into his eyes.

Mr. Gael took a deep breath, his eyes softening. “I’ve thought about that too, my love,” he said, reaching out to gently squeeze her hand. “I was waiting for the right moment and for you to realize what you want and to ask for it yourself. We will make this work, together.”

In that quiet moment, as they sat entwined in each other’s arms, a fragile promise of change and understanding began to take root—a promise that, despite the bitter words and lingering doubts, maybe, just maybe, they could find a path to happiness amidst the cold corridors of the Alfredo Mansion.