Secrets In The Shadows
1322 Words
“Stay out of it, Olivia.” He says at the breakfast table this morning , “it's none of your business.”
“How do you want me to pretend none of it matters?” Olivia says to him as they sit at the breakfast table a few weeks later.
“You are my wife,” he cleans his mouth with a napkin. “Your duties are already spelled out for you, keep to them.” He insists, pulls back his chair and walks away.
Olivia looks on in confusion; he doesn’t need to say it aloud. His warning is clear enough.
Olivia still feels like something is not right. Of course, she knows the marriage is a contract but what happened during the wedding ceremony still bothers her and Brandon is not ready to say anything about it.
From the moment she stepped into Brandon’s mansion, she has been met with cold indifference from him. He doesn’t acknowledge her unless it is about their public appearance. They eat their meals in silence. Conversations are brief, always controlled. He vanishes early in the morning for work and returns late at night, leaving her alone in the gigantic mansion with servants.
The name, Isabella, lingers in the air like an open wound. Olivia has tried to bring it up more than once, but every time she does, Brandon shuts her down with an icy stare.
The whispers have already started filtering around. She had caught servants discussing Isabella twice when they didn't know she was within earshot. And the moment they saw her, they stopped.
The gossip blogs carry headlines like “the return of a former fiancee. A scandal that was never fully explained.” Some claim Isabella ran. Others claim Brandon made sure she never had the chance.
As she watches him leave, an idea pops up in her mind. ‘Visit his stepmom, Victoria. Maybe she would tell you things.’ She smiles at herself, gets up from the table and goes inside.
Two hours later, Olivia's driver stops the car in front of Brandon's childhood home. She steps out of the car and onto the grand estate of the Sterlings.
Everything about the estate is alluring; timeless, and extravagant. She walks up to the large imposing front door, and the door opens before she rings the doorbell.
A uniformed servant greets her with a polite bow. “Welcome, ma’am. Mrs. Sterling is waiting for you in the sunroom. Please, follow me.”
Olivia nods, forcing herself to move forward even as unease coils in her stomach. She hopes she meets Victoria in her element today; she already knows that the older woman likes to gossip and today she wants to indulge her.
The servant leads her through the house. When they arrive at the sunroom, Victoria is seated at the center of the large room on an elegant chaise lounge.
She looks flawless in an ivory silk dress. Adorned with simple jewelry, her golden-blonde hair, perfectly coiffed, frames her sharp, ageless features.
“Look who is here,” Victoria sets down her porcelain teacup and rises smoothly to her feet, a smile curving her lips.
“Olivia, darling,” she purrs, stepping forward to pull her into a light embrace. “It's good to see you again.”
“It's good to be here, Mrs. Sterling,” Olivia says, with a smile of her own. The women pull off from each other and take their seats.
The servant silently pours tea into a delicate cup for Olivia before Victoria waves him away with a flick of her manicured fingers. “That will be all.”
As the door clicks shut, Victoria picks up her own cup again, watching Olivia over the rim.
“Now, tell me dear,” she says smoothly, stirring her tea with a silver spoon, “how are you enjoying married life?”
Her eyes gleam with something unreadable. Curiosity? Amusement? Or something far more dangerous?
Olivia grips the teacup in front of her, the delicate porcelain warming her palms.
She meets Victoria’s gaze and forces a polite smile.
"It’s... been an adjustment.”
“I can imagine it has.” Victoria’s lips curve slightly, stirring her tea with idle amusement. “You look troubled dear, you can talk to me.”
Olivia presses her lips together, saying nothing.
“Is this about Isabella?” Victoria hums, setting her spoon down with a soft clink.
Olivia stiffens, setting her own cup down too.
“She was engaged to Brandon once,” Victoria starts, sipping her tea. “The wedding never happened, of course. A shame, really.”
Olivia swallows. “Why?”
Victoria tilts her head, studying her. “You should ask Brandon.”
“I did.”
A smirk tugs at the older woman’s lips. “And I assume he told you to stay out of it?”
Silence.
Victoria leans in slightly, lowering her voice. “I’m not surprised though, Brandon has always been secretive.”
“Are the blogs correct about Brandon making Isabella disappear?” she asks before she can stop herself.
Victoria merely chuckles, sitting back in her seat. “I believe my stepson can be very dangerous… if anyone gives him a reason to.”
A chill runs down Olivia’s spine.
Victoria refuses to say anything again. She evades all the questions Olivia asks after that.
Olivia couldn't sleep later at night. She turns and tosses around on the bed for hours. The weight of Victoria’s words pressing down on her.
“My stepson can be a very dangerous man…”
‘Could that really be true? Or Victoria was just trying to scare me?’ She asks herself over and over.
She doesn’t know much about Brandon other than that he's capable of getting whatever he wants.
‘But is he capable of making someone disappear?’ She asks herself and rolls out of the bed. She desperately needs to take at least around the hallway.
She lets herself out of her bedroom and wanders through the dimly lit hallway, her bare feet soundless against the cool marble floors.
Then she sees a door at the far end of the hall; one she has never seen open since she starts living here.
She tests the handle.
Locked.
Her heart pounds. She knows she shouldn’t, knows this is crossing a line. But something in her refuses to turn back.
Her pulse quickens.
She should leave. She should go back to bed and try to stay out of Brandon's business.
But she kneels, her fingers fumbling for the small hairpin tucked behind her ear. It takes a few tries, her hands trembling slightly, but finally, she hears the faint click.
The door creaks open.
The air inside is heavy with the scent of old books and the smell of whiskey.
Olivia steps inside and flicks on the light. Her breath catches as her gaze sweeps over the room.
She moves closer to the desk. And there she sees some photographs and pieces of old paper scattered across the large desk. Pictures of Isabella.
Her hands trembled as she set her hands on the edge of the desk, looking at them. Some pictures are pristine, others torn and crumpled.
‘What is the meaning of these…?’ She asks herself. A dreadful fear clogging at her heart.
She reaches out to a piece of paper on the desk; a letter. The ink a bit smudged as if someone had gripped it too tightly.
"You said you’d never let me go, but I was never free to begin with."
Olivia’s stomach twists. What does that mean?
She is reaching out for another paper when she hears footsteps.
Her breath catches.
Slowly, she turns and sees Brandon standing in the doorway, his eyes burning with fury.
“Olivia,” he calls out, his voice low, sharp as a blade. “What do you think you’re doing?”
- Writer
