THE MASTER’S BRIDE

THREE IS A CROWD

CHAPTER 3

As soon as Mr. Gael Alfredo took his seat at the long, polished dining table, a heavy silence fell over the room. Guests, family members, and staff alike exchanged bewildered glances. No one could fathom what the Master was doing—standing there with a bouquet of deep red roses in one hand and a small, ornate jewelry box in the other. Whispers filled the air, yet none dared interrupt the charged atmosphere with questions.

Before the tension could escalate further, Marco, the eldest son, sprang to his feet in a burst of impatience. “Happy Birthday, Father! We are indeed happy to see you age in good health, wealth, and wisdom!” he declared, his voice resonating through the hall as he attempted to break the mounting suspense.

“Everyone—raise your glasses!” Marco continued, his tone both commanding and festive. “Let’s toast to more celebrations in the Alfredo Family!” As glasses clinked and cheerful voices echoed, the room filled with a brief, warm camaraderie.

For a moment, merriment seemed to reclaim the space. Laughter and small talk mingled with the soft music playing in the background. But just as quickly as the cheer had returned, Mr. Gael Alfredo rose from his seat. The room fell into an even deeper silence as every eye turned toward him. With a deliberate calm, he cleared his throat and began, “I have an announcement. Everyone, please remain calm.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. “Life is a mystery—sometimes the decisions we make may seem senseless to others, even if we try to explain them. But in the end, one must do what brings peace and comfort.” His voice, measured and resolute, echoed off the high ceilings.

Taking a deep breath, he continued, “Today, I stand before you as not just your master, but as a man who values family. I have decided to remarry, and I have chosen Alia as my bride.”

For nearly half a minute, the room was engulfed in shock. A collective gasp, followed by a torrent of hushed whispers, swept across the hall. Eyes widened and mouths fell agape. “Father, are you serious? There’s no way you would marry a maid, right?” someone murmured. “Is he really replacing my late mother with her?” The disbelieving tones reached a crescendo as Marco’s face contorted with anger.

“Silence!” Gael’s voice cut through the murmurs like a knife. “Marco, take your seat. And Alia—please come forward.”

Alia stood frozen, her body trembling as she struggled to process the news. The shock rendered her nearly motionless, her eyes wide and unblinking. Slowly, almost as if drawn by fate, she stepped forward toward her soon-to-be husband.

In a gesture that seemed both symbolic and intimate, Gael extended the bouquet toward her, then carefully opened the jewelry box. Inside lay a meticulously crafted, customized engagement ring, its surface delicately engraved with her name. With measured grace, he reached for her left hand and slipped the ring onto her middle finger.

The room fell utterly silent—each guest, each staff member, absorbing the gravity of the moment. Gael leaned in close, his voice soft and confidential. “This decision was not made lightly,” he murmured into her ear. “Disregard what anyone else might say. It is you and me against the world now. Prepare yourself—by Monday next week, my lawyer will be here to formalize our union.”

Then, as if punctuating the announcement, he declared, “Alright, party is over! You may now retire to your rooms.” With that, he turned and ascended the grand staircase with a quiet dignity, leaving the hall in stunned silence.

Not everyone was ready to accept the revelation. A few of Alia’s colleagues approached her timidly, their eyes filled with a mix of envy and skepticism, whispering that she must have been involved in an affair with the Master. The gossip only deepened the cold silence that now filled the space where celebration had once been.

Marco and his younger brother, their faces set in expressions of anger and betrayal, stormed out of the room without another word. Their footsteps echoed down the corridor, leaving an unsettling void behind.

Before long, Fernandez, still reeling from his own inner torment, approached Alia. He fidgeted nervously as he edged closer. “What is happening, Alia?” he asked, his voice low and desperate. “Are you in some sort of relationship with the Master? Do you love him? Is that why you rejected me?”

As Fernandez reached out, his hand trembling with unspoken longing, Alia instinctively raised her bouquet as a shield. “Don’t take another step, Fernandez,” she warned, her eyes fierce and determined. “Can’t you see? I’m engaged!” Her words cut through the tension, and with that, she turned sharply and retreated down the corridor, leaving him behind in a mix of anger and sorrow.

Later that night, alone in her room, Alia lay on her bed, the soft glow of the moon filtering through the window. She stared at the glimmer of the engagement ring on her finger, its shine both mesmerizing and haunting. “What a night,” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible.

Her thoughts swirled as tears began to stream down her cheeks. Is this real? Does the Master truly mean what he said, or is this all a grand illusion? She questioned the sincerity behind the proposal. Should I trust him? Should I risk my future on this decision?

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she finally spoke to the silent room, “Oh, heavens, if this is a dream, I pray I never wake up.” She clasped her hands together, the sound of her whispered prayer echoing in the quiet darkness.

In a distant corner of the mansion, Marco stood on his private balcony, puffing out smoke from his vape. His eyes, filled with bitter resolve, fixed on the distant celebration below. “I know my father always finds ways to get on my nerves,” he muttered, voice thick with disdain. “But marrying a maid? No, I will never allow a lowlife to have any share in our legacy.” His words were laced with venom as he vowed silently to oppose his father’s shocking decision at any cost.

As the night wore on, a heavy, almost mournful stillness settled over the Alfredo Mansion—a stark contrast to the earlier festivities. The shock of the announcement had rippled through every corner, leaving hearts heavy and minds questioning the future.

And in the quiet of her room, as Alia stared at the ring that bound her to a destiny she had never chosen, one thought echoed louder than the rest: What if everything I believed in is nothing but a fragile illusion?