Chapter Seven
1355 Words
ELARA'S POV
I wake up with a gasp, my heart racing. For a few seconds, I have no idea where I am.
The ceiling above me is high and painted bright white. The morning sunlight slips through the long curtains that don't belong to me. The bed beneath me is far too soft, and the smooth silk sheets are unlike anything I'm used to.
I blink several times, trying to clear my head. Then yesterday's incident comes rushing back to me. The contract. The wedding. Cassian.
A knot forms in my throat. I sit up slowly, letting the blanket fall into my lap. My eyes wander around the room. It is beautiful. The walls are painted soft grey, matched with a cream-colored furniture that gives the room a warm, elegant feel. Fresh flowers sit on a table near the window, filling the air with a sweet scent. A large mirror stands beside a polished wardrobe, and sunlight pours through the floor-to-ceiling windows, showing the city stretching far into the distance.
Everything looks perfect, so perfect. It feels less like a bedroom and more like a luxury hotel prepared for an important guest. Not someone's home, certainly not mine. I wonder if they decorated it for me before I arrived. If they did, they guessed my taste surprisingly well. Still…no matter how lovely it is, the room feels like it belongs to someone else.
A gentle knock on the door interrupts my thoughts. Before I can answer, the door opens.
"Good morning, Mrs. Virelli." Clara walks in carrying a neatly folded outfit. Her smile is kind, though I notice the nervousness behind it. The title makes me freeze. Mrs. Virelli. It still doesn't sound like me.
"Good morning," I reply. "You don't have to call me that."
She hesitates. "Mr. Virelli prefers it." A second later, she bites her lip as if she wishes she hadn't said that. "I mean... it's simply easier."
"Easier for who?" I ask.
She avoids my eyes while placing the clothes neatly on the bed. "For everyone."
That answer tells me more than she probably realizes. I study her for a moment. She looks young, maybe twenty-two at most. Her brown eyes keep darting toward the open doorway as though she's worried someone might overhear us. The fear in her is impossible to miss.
"I picked a comfortable outfit for today," she says, smoothing the clothes even though they don't have a single wrinkle. "I hope you like it."
I glance at the outfit. A soft blue blouse, and cream trousers, nothing flashy.
I smile a little. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." She shifts from one foot to the other before speaking again. "May I tell you something, ma'am?"
"Of course."
She lowers her voice. "Mr. Virelli doesn't like people questioning him. About anything.”
I raise an eyebrow.
She quickly adds, "I'm not trying to frighten you."
"Then why tell me?"
"Because..." She pauses, choosing her words carefully. "I think it's better if you know from the beginning." Her expression almost looks pleading. Like she's trying to protect me.
"Is that supposed to be a warning?" I ask, half-teasing.
Her eyes widen. "N-n-no, not at all," she shakes her head frantically, and a few loose strands of hair fall across her face.
"He's not a bad man. He's just... used to being in control.” She glances at the hallway again before continuing. "He likes things done his way."
I stay quiet.
"It's easier," she says softly, "if you don't challenge him too much."
Those words settle inside me. I want to ask more. What happens when someone refuses? Has anyone ever stood up to Cassian? Did they regret it? But Clara already seems uncomfortable. She's said more than she intended. Pushing further would only make her anxious.
"I understand," I say instead.
Relief spreads across her face. "If you'd like," she says with a brighter smile, "I can help you get ready."
I nod.
She leads me to the dressing table and helps me choose a pair of simple earrings and places them beside me. While I wash up with the water she has prepared, she lays out fresh towels.
Afterwards, she carefully brushes my hair until the tangled strands become smooth again. She hands me the blouse and trousers before stepping aside to give me privacy while I change. When I'm dressed, she helps button my sleeves, smooths my collar, and adjusts my hair around my shoulders.
Finally, she steps back with a satisfied smile. "There."
I glance at my reflection, satisfied. However, I'm still frightened inwardly… and confused, wondering how my life changed overnight.
Before Clara reaches the door, I stop her. "Wait."
She turns around.
"My father..." The words catch in my throat. "Is he alright?"
Her face softens immediately. "Yes."
I let out a breath I didn't realise I'd been holding.
"He's stable."
Tears almost fill my eyes.
"He spent the night under constant medical care."
I nod slowly. "Where is he?"
"In the private clinic."
I frown. "The hospital?"
She shakes her head. "No. It's inside the estate."
I stare at her. "Inside this house?"
"Yes." She smiles gently. "Mr. Virelli arranged everything himself. He transferred your father here last night and brought in specialists to care for him."
I don't know how to feel. Relief washes over me first. Dad is safe and close by. But the feeling disappears almost as soon as it comes. Suspicion takes its place. Why would Cassian do this? Why spend so much money on my father? Why bring him here? What does he expect in return? Nothing about this marriage has been done out of kindness. Every favour comes with a price, and every decision is planned.
I remember my father two days ago begging me to sign the contract. He couldn't even look me in the eye while handing my future to a stranger. Then he collapsed. I can still hear his weak voice.
At the time, I thought he was afraid. Now… I'm beginning to think he knows something I didn't. Anger rises inside me again, but not for long. Despite my anger at him, I love it all the same. My father isn't perfect. He never protected me the way I wanted. He wasn't strong after my mother left. Sometimes it felt like he gave up on life long before his illness. But he's still my father, the only family I have left. No matter how angry I become, I can't stop loving him.
"I want to see him," I say quietly. "As soon as possible."
Clara nods. "I'll arrange it." She hesitates before adding, "Mr. Virelli usually prefers to be informed before anyone visits the clinic."
I stare at her. Another rule? Another permission I didn't know I needed? "He's my father." The words come out sharper than I intended. "I shouldn't need anyone's approval to see him."
Clara instantly lowers her head. "I'm sorry..."
Guilt hits me at once. She isn't the problem. She's only following orders. I sigh. "No." I shake my head. "I'm sorry. My frustration isn't with you."
She gives me a small understanding smile.
"I'm still trying to figure out this place."
"I know." She nods. "It becomes easier."
"Does it?"
She smiles again. "Once you learn the house."
Once I learn the house? The words play in my head after she leaves. Mr. Virelli prefers this. Mr. Virelli doesn't like questions. Mr. Virelli likes knowing everything. Everything in this mansion seems to revolve around one man's rules, choices and control; the staff, security. Now my father is here too, protected. Or perhaps, watched. I honestly don't know which. This isn't a home. Now I'm expected to fit into that world as though I've always belonged here.
I smooth the wrinkles from my blouse and take a deep breath. If I'm going to survive this marriage...If I'm going to protect my father… Then I need to understand every part of this place.
Because behind these walls, Cassian Virelli seems to be hiding something and whatever it is, I have a feeling it has nothing to do with our marriage.
- Writer
