A vow written in revenge

WELCOME TO LAURENT MANOR

CHAPTER 5

WELCOME TO LAURENT MANOR

Nearly an hour later, the city disappeared behind sheets of rain.

The limousine glided silently through the streets.

Inside, the atmosphere was almost unbearable.

Iris sat beside the rain-speckled window, watching blurred headlights streak across the glass.

Her wedding dress felt heavier now.

The pearls around the sleeves scratched against her skin.

She wanted nothing more than to take it off.

Beside her, Cassian worked through a relentless stream of phone calls.

"No interviews."

A pause.

"Cancel tomorrow's board meeting."

Another pause.

"No exceptions."

His voice never changed.

Not once.

Every instruction came calmly.

Efficiently.

Almost mechanically.

She couldn't understand him.

"Do you ever stop working?"

He ended the call before answering.

"Rarely."

"You almost died."

"I didn't."

"You almost did."

"I deal in facts, Iris."

His eyes met hers.

"The fact is..."

"I'm still here."

She looked away first.

Why was he so impossible to read?

Most people would have been furious.

Or frightened.

Or exhausted.

Cassian seemed...

Prepared.

The limousine slowed.

Ahead, towering iron gates emerged through the rain.

They began to open.

Slowly.

Silently.

Beyond them stood Laurent Manor.

Iris forgot to breathe.

It wasn't a mansion.

It was an empire built from stone.

Floodlights illuminated acres of manicured gardens.

Ancient oaks lined the winding driveway.

Security cameras tracked the limousine's approach from every angle.

The estate didn't resemble a home.

It resembled a fortress preparing for war.

As the vehicle stopped beneath the grand portico, two rows of household staff stood waiting despite the rain.

No one spoke.

No one smiled.

They simply watched.

The chauffeur opened Cassian's door first.

Then hers.

An elegant woman in her sixties stepped forward.

Silver hair.

Perfect posture.

Sharp, intelligent eyes.

"Welcome home, Mr. Laurent."

Cassian inclined his head respectfully.

"Mrs. Ashcroft."

She turned toward Iris.

For the briefest second...

She hesitated.

Almost as if she were measuring something invisible.

Then she bowed.

"Welcome to Laurent Manor..."

A tiny pause.

"...Mrs. Laurent."

The words were flawless.

The hesitation wasn't.

As Iris stepped beneath the shelter of the entrance, an uncomfortable feeling settled over her.

No one looked pleased she was here.

They looked...

Concerned.

As though they already knew something she didn't.

Before she could decide whether she was imagining it, movement caught her eye.

A curtain shifted in one of the second-floor windows.

Someone had been watching their arrival.

She looked up sharply.

The figure vanished.

Gone before she could make out a face.

A cold shiver crawled down her spine.

She wasn't being welcomed into Laurent Manor.

She was being watched.

Behind her, the enormous front doors swung shut.

The deep thud echoed through the marble entrance hall.

For reasons she couldn't explain...

It sounded less like a door closing—

and more like a lock turning.

The echo of the closing doors lingered through the vast entrance hall.

Iris stood still for a moment, taking everything in.

A sweeping marble staircase curved toward the upper floors beneath a magnificent crystal skylight.

Portraits of stern-faced Laurents lined the walls, their painted eyes seeming to follow her every movement.

It was beautiful.

It was suffocating.

Every inch of the manor whispered power.

And secrets.

"Your luggage has already been taken upstairs, Madam."

Mrs. Ashcroft's voice broke the silence.

"I've prepared the east wing."

"The east wing?" Iris repeated.

Before the housekeeper could answer, Cassian spoke.

"No."

His voice wasn't loud.

It didn't need to be.

"Mrs. Bennett will stay in my suite."

The servants exchanged quick, nervous glances.

One young maid nearly dropped the garment bag she was carrying.

Even Mrs. Ashcroft looked genuinely surprised.

"Sir..." she began carefully.

"Your grandfather's suite has never—"

"I know exactly what it has never done."

Cassian removed his watch and handed it to a waiting footman.

"Tonight, it changes."

The room fell silent.

No one argued again.

Iris frowned.

"You made that decision without asking me."

Cassian looked at her.

"I did."

"And if I say no?"

"Then I'll ignore you."

She stared at him.

"You really do enjoy giving orders."

"No."

His expression remained unreadable.

"I enjoy making it difficult for people to kill you."

The words hit her harder than she expected.

She folded her arms.

"You keep saying things like that."

"Because you keep treating today like coincidence."

"It wasn't?"

He held her gaze.

"Nothing about today was accidental."

For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke.

Then he turned toward the staircase.

"Come."

Iris stayed where she was.

"I'm not a child."

"No."

Cassian glanced back.

"If you were, this would be much easier."

She rolled her eyes.

"You're unbelievably arrogant."

"So I've been told."

A tiny laugh escaped one of the younger maids before she quickly covered her mouth.

Mrs. Ashcroft shot the girl a warning glance.

Cassian, however...

Almost smiled.

Almost.

The moment vanished before Iris could be certain she'd seen it.

The western corridor was unnervingly quiet.

Their footsteps echoed across polished hardwood floors.

Portrait after portrait watched them pass.

Men with cold eyes.

Women with perfect smiles.

An entire family preserved in oil paint.

"Does anyone in your family smile?" Iris asked.

Cassian didn't even look at the portraits.

"Not in paintings."

"Comforting."

"They were meant to intimidate visitors."

"They're succeeding."

His mouth twitched.

Barely.

"You'll survive."

"I'm beginning to hate hearing those words."

"You'll hate hearing the alternatives even more."

His suite occupied almost an entire wing of the manor.

Mrs. Ashcroft unlocked the doors before stepping aside.

"This was originally designed for Mr. Edward Laurent and his wife."

The doors opened.

Iris stopped walking.

It wasn't a bedroom.

It was practically another house.

A private library stretched along one wall.

A sitting room overlooked the gardens.

Beyond that lay two separate bedrooms connected by a spacious lounge.

She blinked.

"This is your suite?"

"My grandparents preferred privacy."

"I think they preferred owning small countries."

A faint snort escaped one of the footmen before he quickly looked away.

Cassian ignored it.

"The room on the left is yours."

Mrs. Ashcroft bowed politely.

"If you require anything, ring once."

She hesitated.

Then looked directly at Iris.

"And please..."

Something uncertain crossed her face.

"...keep your bedroom door locked tonight."

Cassian's eyes snapped toward her.

"Ashcroft."

The housekeeper lowered her gaze immediately.

"I apologize, sir."

"For what?"

"I spoke out of turn."

She left before either of them could stop her.

Iris watched the door close.

"That wasn't normal."

"No."

"She looked frightened."

"Yes."

"Of what?"

Cassian answered without hesitation.

"Me."

She looked at him.

"I don't believe that."

"You don't have to."

He walked toward the bedroom she'd been assigned.

The moment he crossed the doorway...

He stopped.

Completely.

His expression hardened.

"What?"

He didn't answer.

Instead, he crossed the room slowly.

On the bedside table stood a crystal vase filled with fresh white lilies.

The sweet fragrance drifted through the room.

"They're beautiful," Iris said softly.

"Don't."

His voice cut through the room like ice.

She looked at him.

"What?"

"Don't touch them."

He picked up the vase carefully, studying every flower without bringing them close enough to smell.

His eyes narrowed.

"Mrs. Ashcroft."

The housekeeper returned almost immediately.

"Sir?"

"Who placed these flowers here?"

She frowned.

"I don't understand."

"These lilies."

She looked genuinely confused.

"I didn't order flowers."

"They weren't here this morning?"

"No, sir."

"Did anyone enter my suite after I left?"

"No."

Cassian's jaw tightened.

"Think carefully."

"I am."

She looked from the flowers to Cassian, then back again.

"I swear on my years of service... I have never seen that arrangement before."

Silence.

Cassian slowly rotated one of the lilies beneath the light.

"Look."

He held it toward Iris.

She leaned closer.

At first she saw nothing.

Then...

A thin strip of black ribbon.

Wrapped tightly around the stem.

Almost invisible.

"It's just decoration."

"No."

Cassian carefully loosened the ribbon.

Something tiny fell into his palm.

A folded piece of paper.

He unfolded it.

His expression became impossibly still.

"What does it say?" Iris asked.

Without speaking, he handed it to her.

Four words.

She doesn't belong here.

The room seemed to grow colder.

Iris read it again.

Then again.

A strange mixture of anger and fear tightened her chest.

"They knew..."

Her voice barely emerged.

"They knew I'd be staying here."

Cassian looked toward the bedroom door.

"No."

"What?"

"They knew before I told anyone."

A heavy silence followed.

Mrs. Ashcroft slowly shook her head.

"That's impossible."

Cassian looked at her.

"Is it?"

The housekeeper's face had gone pale.

"I... I don't know."

He folded the note once.

Neatly.

Deliberately.

"Only three people knew Iris would stay in this suite."

"You."

He looked at Iris.

"Me."

Then at Mrs. Ashcroft.

"And you."

The elderly woman's breathing became uneven.

"Sir... are you saying..."

"I'm saying someone knew my decision before I made it."

Iris frowned.

"That's impossible."

Cassian's gray eyes met hers.

"In this house..."

"They specialize in impossible."

Before anyone could speak again—

CRASH!

Glass shattered somewhere below.

A woman screamed.

The sound ripped through the manor.

Cassian was already moving.

"Stay here."

"Oh, stop saying that."

Ignoring him completely, Iris ran after him.

Servants poured into the main staircase from every direction.

By the time they reached the grand foyer, everyone had frozen.

A priceless porcelain vase lay shattered across the marble floor.

Water mixed with white rose petals.

At the far end of the hall, an enormous family portrait hung crooked on the wall.

No...

Not hung.

Slashed.

A brutal cut ran from corner to corner, tearing through the painted face of Edward Laurent.

Fresh red paint dripped down the ruined canvas.

Still wet.

Still running.

Five words had been painted in bold, violent strokes.

YOUR WIFE IS NEXT, CASSIAN.

No one spoke.

A young maid suddenly burst into tears.

Another servant crossed himself, whispering a prayer under his breath.

Mrs. Ashcroft staggered backward, one trembling hand covering her mouth.

"...Not again."

The words slipped out before she could stop them.

Cassian turned sharply.

"What did you just say?"

The elderly housekeeper's face drained of color.

"I..."

She shook her head frantically.

"Nothing, sir."

"You said, 'Not again.'"

"It was a mistake."

"Answer me."

"I can't."

The room fell into a crushing silence.

Cassian didn't look at the torn portrait.

He wasn't staring at the threat.

His eyes were fixed on the paint slowly sliding down the canvas.

Then he spoke.

Quietly.

Almost to himself.

"They're still here."

Iris felt her pulse slam against her ribs.

Because the paint...

...hadn't even begun to dry.