The Language of Luxury

A promise without words

Thiago house

Anabelle slowly opened her eyes. For a few seconds, she simply stared at the ceiling, trying to remember where she was. Then everything from yesterday came rushing back.

The engagement.

The reporters.

The ring on her finger.

Thiago.

She sighed and sat up.

A knock came from the door.

"Come in," she answered.

A maid walked in carrying a neatly folded dress.

"Good morning, Ma'am."

Anabelle looked behind her, almost expecting someone else to enter.

The maid smiled politely.

"I'm speaking to you, Ma'am."

Anabelle forced a smile.

"I'll never get used to that."

"You will, Ma'am."

The maid placed the dress on the bed.

"The Master asked me to prepare this for you."

Anabelle looked at the simple but elegant cream-colored dress.

"Did he choose it?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"He has time for that?"

"The Master notices everything."

The maid bowed slightly before leaving the room.

Anabelle looked at the dress for a long moment.

"He notices everything..." she murmured.

A few minutes later, she came downstairs.

The mansion was already busy.

Some maids were arranging fresh flowers while others cleaned the already spotless living room. Outside, gardeners carefully trimmed the hedges. Security guards stood at every entrance, alert but silent.

Everyone greeted her.

"Good morning, Ma'am."

"Good morning, Ma'am."

"Good morning, Ma'am."

At first, she replied to every greeting. After a while, she simply nodded.

One thing surprised her.

No one looked down on her because of the scandal.

No one whispered behind her back.

No one gave her a look of pity.

Instead, they treated her with the same respect they gave Thiago.

She finally reached the dining room.

Breakfast had already been served.

She was about to sit when another servant spoke.

"The Master is coming."

Immediately, every servant stood properly.

The room fell silent.

A few seconds later, Thiago walked in.

He was dressed in a dark suit, his expression as calm and unreadable as ever.

He acknowledged everyone with a slight nod before taking his seat.

No one spoke.

A servant placed today's newspaper beside him.

Another handed him a tablet containing his schedule.

Without saying a word, Thiago began reading while eating breakfast.

Anabelle watched him.

He wasn't intimidating because he shouted.

He wasn't feared because he threatened people.

Everything around him simply moved according to his pace.

A man hurried into the dining room.

"Sir, the investors from Singapore have requested to move today's meeting."

Thiago didn't even look up.

"Move it to four."

"Yes, sir."

The man left immediately.

Another employee entered.

"The legal department is waiting for your approval."

"I'll review it after noon."

"Understood, sir."

Within seconds, the employee was gone.

Anabelle couldn't help staring.

Thiago noticed.

"What?"

She quickly looked away.

"Nothing."

He continued eating.

After a few seconds, he spoke again.

"Did you sleep well?"

She looked at him in surprise.

"I did."

"Good."

That was all.

The conversation ended as quickly as it started.

A maid quietly poured tea into Anabelle's cup.

She leaned over slightly and whispered,

"The Master doesn't usually ask people how they slept."

Anabelle looked at Thiago again.

He was already reading another document as though nothing had happened.

She couldn't understand him.

One moment he treated her like a business contract.

The next moment he remembered whether she had slept well.

After breakfast, Thiago stood.

"I'm leaving."

The servants immediately stepped aside.

He adjusted his cufflinks before looking at Anabelle.

"If you need anything, tell the housekeeper."

"I don't need anything."

He nodded once.

"As you wish."

Without another word, he walked out.

A few seconds later, the sound of a car engine echoed through the driveway.

Anabelle let out a quiet breath.

"Does he always leave this early?" she asked.

"Yes, Ma'am," the housekeeper answered.

"The Master usually leaves before eight."

"And returns?"

"It depends on work."

Anabelle nodded slowly.

"So this is his life..."

The housekeeper smiled politely.

"Would you like me to show you around the mansion?"

"Yes."

The two of them walked through the mansion.

Every room looked like it belonged in a magazine.

The indoor garden.

The library.

The private gym.

The swimming pool.

Everything reflected wealth, but nothing felt excessive.

It felt... controlled.

As they reached another corridor, two guards immediately stepped forward.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am."

"This area is restricted."

Anabelle looked past them.

At the end of the hallway was a large black door.

"What is in there?"

The guard remained expressionless.

"I am not authorized to answer."

She smiled.

"I wasn't asking you to open it."

The guard bowed slightly.

"Thank you for understanding, Ma'am."

She nodded and walked away.

Even without entering...

She had a feeling that whatever was behind that door was important.

Very important.Lawrence hideout

Lawrence slowly opened his eyes as the sharp pain in his shoulder reminded him of yesterday's attack.

The room was small and unfamiliar. It wasn't a hospital but a safe apartment owned by someone he had trusted for years. The curtains were tightly drawn, allowing only a thin ray of sunlight into the room.

He slowly sat up.

The memory card was still in his pocket.

He took it out and stared at it.

"So this is what they were willing to kill for."

A knock came on the door.

"You awake?" an elderly man asked from outside.

"Come in."

The man walked in carrying a bowl of hot porridge and a cup of tea.

"You should be in a hospital."

"And let the people looking for me find me?" Lawrence replied with a faint smile.

The old man sighed.

"You've always been stubborn."

"I've always been careful."

He placed the tray on the bedside table.

"The doctor said the bullet only grazed your shoulder. You were lucky."

Lawrence looked at the bandage before picking up his phone.

His thumb stopped over Anabelle's contact.

One call.

That was all it would take.

He wanted to hear her voice.

To tell her he was alive.

To tell her not to worry.

His finger hovered over the call button...

...but he slowly lowered the phone.

"No."

The old man noticed.

"Your daughter?"

Lawrence nodded.

"If they are watching me..."

"...one call is enough to lead them straight to her."

"You think they're still after you?"

Lawrence looked at the memory card in his hand.

"They're not after me."

"They're after this."

The room became quiet.

"Do you know what's inside it?" the old man asked.

Lawrence shook his head.

"Not yet."

"But whatever it is..."

"...someone is desperate enough to erase it."

He slipped the memory card back into his pocket.

"I've spent years protecting my daughter."

"I'm not going to fail now."

The old man folded his arms.

"So what's your next move?"

Lawrence stood up despite the pain in his shoulder.

"I disappear."

"No calls."

"No messages."

"No one must know where I am."

"And your daughter?"

Lawrence looked out of the window.

His eyes softened.

"She'll hate me for disappearing."

A sad smile crossed his face.

"But I'd rather she hates me..."

"...than bury me."

He picked up his jacket from the chair.

"For now..."

"...the safest thing I can do for Anabelle..."

"...is stay away from her."Thiago study

A knock came from the study door.

"Come in."

The door opened and Shyla walked in.

Thiago was seated behind his desk, reading through a document. He finished signing the last page before closing the file and placing it neatly on the desk.

Only then did he look up.

"I received your message," Shyla said.

"I know."

Silence settled between them.

"So..." she said with a faint smile. "This is how you wanted to end it."

"Yes."

"You could've called."

"I chose not to."

Shyla let out a quiet laugh.

"That's very much like you."

Thiago remained silent.

She took a few steps closer.

"You chose Anabelle."

"Yes."

"And nothing I say will change that."

"No."

There wasn't a hint of hesitation in his voice.

Shyla nodded slowly.

"I didn't come here to change your mind."

"I know."

"I came because I wanted to hear it from you... not from the news."

"You've heard it."

Another silence followed.

Shyla looked around the study before her eyes returned to him.

"I thought I'd find you at the company."

"You found me."

The simple answer made her smile.

"You've always been difficult to read."

Thiago said nothing.

After a moment, she asked quietly,

"Do you love her?"

Thiago's gaze remained on her.

"That question no longer concerns you."

For the first time, Shyla looked away.

She had expected the answer...

...yet hearing it still stung.

She took a slow breath before looking back at him.

"I suppose you're right."

She straightened her handbag.

"I won't interfere with your marriage."

Thiago didn't respond.

"But don't expect me to congratulate you either."

"Noted."

Shyla smiled faintly.

"You haven't changed."

"No."

She walked toward the door but stopped before opening it.

"I've never seen you protect anyone the way you protected her."

Thiago's expression remained unreadable.

"I hope..."

"...she proves worth protecting."

This time, Thiago answered without hesitation.

"She doesn't have to."

Shyla slowly turned to look at him.

"What do you mean?"

"My decision isn't based on what she can prove."

The words were calm.

Simple.

Yet they carried enough weight for Shyla to understand.

A bitter smile appeared on her lips.

"I've lost."

"You did."

There was no pride in Thiago's voice.

Only honesty.

Shyla nodded once.

"I wish you a happy marriage, Thiago."

"Take care of yourself."

She opened the door and walked out without looking back.Thiago house

The study door closed behind Shyla.

She walked down the quiet hallway, her heels clicking softly against the polished marble floor.

Her expression remained calm, but her grip on her handbag tightened.

As she reached the staircase, she saw someone coming from the opposite direction.

Anabelle.

Clara followed a few steps behind, carrying several garment bags.

The two women stopped.

For a brief moment, neither of them spoke.

Shyla's eyes fell to the diamond ring on Anabelle's finger before returning to her face.

"It suits you."

Anabelle instinctively looked at the ring.

"Thank you."

"I've always wondered what kind of woman Thiago would marry."

"And now I know."

Anabelle couldn't tell whether it was a compliment or an insult.

"I'm still trying to figure that out myself," she replied honestly.

A faint smile appeared on Shyla's lips.

"Then let me give you one piece of advice."

Anabelle waited.

"Thiago isn't a man of many words."

"He won't explain every decision he makes."

"He won't tell you everything he's thinking."

"But when he gives you his word..."

"...believe it."

Anabelle looked at her, surprised.

"Why are you telling me this?"

Shyla looked past her toward the study door for a brief second.

"Because I knew him before you did."

"And because..."

"...whether I like it or not..."

"...you're his wife now."

Silence settled between them.

Shyla stepped aside to continue walking.

As she passed Anabelle, she stopped for just a second.

"Take care of yourself, Mrs. Adebayo."

Then she continued toward the entrance.

Just as she turned the corner, Clara accidentally bumped into her while adjusting the garment bags.

"Oh!"

"I'm so sorry, Ma'am."

Clara quickly steadied the bags before they could fall.

Shyla reached out and helped hold one of them.

"It's alright."

Her eyes briefly landed on the silver name tag pinned neatly to the maid's uniform.

Clara.

She smiled politely.

"Be careful, Clara."

"Yes, Ma'am. Thank you."

Shyla nodded and walked away.

A few moments later, the sound of a car leaving the driveway echoed through the mansion.

Clara let out a relieved sigh.

"I thought I was going to drop all of these."

Anabelle laughed softly.

"You looked terrified."

"I was."

Clara smiled sheepishly.

"These dresses are beautiful."

"I'd cry if anything happened to them."

"You really love fashion, don't you?"

Clara's eyes immediately lit up.

"I do."

"More than anything."

"I want to become someone in the fashion industry one day."

"I haven't decided whether I'll be a stylist, a designer or a fashion influencer..."

"...but I know I belong there."

Anabelle smiled warmly.

"Dreams have a way of finding people who refuse to give up."

Clara's smile grew even brighter.

"I hope mine finds me too."

"I'm sure it will," Anabelle said.

"Now..."

"...show me the rest of the mansion."

"Yes, Ma'am."

The two women walked deeper into the mansion together, unaware that fate had quietly introduced them to someone who would one day change both of their lives.Thiago house

Anabelle found Thiago in the living room, a tablet resting on his lap as he went through a few documents.

She looked at the clock on the wall before looking back at him.

"I thought you'd still be at work."

"I've finished for today."

She looked surprised.

"So early?"

"Yes."

"I thought being the CEO of Adebayo Group meant you barely had time to breathe."

Thiago placed the tablet on the coffee table.

"It usually does."

Anabelle frowned.

"Then why are you here?"

"I cleared this week."

She blinked.

"You... cleared your schedule?"

"I postponed everything that could wait."

"What about the things that couldn't?"

"I attended one meeting this morning."

"And the rest?"

"They can wait."

Anabelle stared at him for a moment.

"You actually postponed work because of the wedding?"

Thiago looked at her.

"Because of the marriage."

The answer caught her off guard.

She had expected him to say it was for appearances or the media.

Instead...

He simply called it what it was.

"You don't seem like someone who takes time off."

"I don't."

"Then why now?"

He held her gaze.

"I don't like doing things halfway."

Silence settled between them.

Anabelle looked away, absentmindedly turning the ring on her finger.

"I've been trying to call my dad."

Thiago looked up.

"His phone is switched off."

"He was supposed to come today."

"He didn't."

Her smile faded.

"My dad has always been there for me."

"When I graduated..."

"When I got my first job..."

"He never missed the important moments."

She looked at Thiago.

"I don't want him to miss my wedding."

"He has to walk me down the aisle."

"Can you help me find him?"

Thiago answered without hesitation.

"I'll have someone look into it."

"Someone?"

She frowned.

"I thought you could do it yourself."

"I have people who handle these things."

His answer was calm and matter-of-fact.

Anabelle sighed.

"If we don't hear from him before the wedding..."

"...I'll go and look for him myself."

Thiago's expression changed ever so slightly.

"No."

She looked at him.

"No?"

"I won't allow it."

"Why?"

"Because it's unnecessary."

"He's my father."

"I know."

"Then why can't I look for him?"

Thiago stood and picked up his tablet.

"I said I'll find him."

"And if you don't?"

He looked at her for a brief moment.

"I will."

There was no emotion in his voice.

Only certainty.

He turned and walked toward the staircase before stopping.

"When I give you my word..."

"...trust it."

Without waiting for a reply, he continued upstairs.

Anabelle remained where she was.

She still wasn't sure she understood Thiago.

But one thing was becoming clear.

He wasn't a man who spoke often...

...yet every word he chose seemed to carry a promise.