Beneath His Heart

chapter 9

April’s pov

Tears burned behind my eyes as I saw them.

Alexander.

And Gwen.

Together.

They were walking side by side, laughing at something he said. Her hand brushed his arm.

And just like that, my foolish little hope died a quiet death.

I had once believed that if I told him the truth — that I wasn’t Gwen, but April, the girl he once knew — maybe, just maybe, he might see me. He might choose me.

But watching them now, that belief crumbled like ash in my chest.

He would never stop loving her.

Even if he was married to me.

Even if I wore her name.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Ruth’s voice broke through, lined with concern.

I blinked quickly and turned away, forcing a brittle smile as I wiped the tears before they could fall.

They couldn’t see them.

Not Ruth. Not Jayson.

If they spotted Alexander and Gwen together, there would be a storm — and I didn’t want them caught in it. I couldn’t let them fight my battles.

“April,” Jayson said, noticing my silence. “Is this about him? I swear to God, I’ll kill the bastard”

He was already starting to turn his head, to follow the direction of my gaze.

“No Jay,” I said suddenly, grabbing his arm, pulling his attention back to me. “It’s nothing. I’m just… I wanted to tell you something.”

He looked at me, uncertain. Ruth narrowed her eyes, suspicious but quiet.

“I’m moving to Blackmount Estate,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s in Newville.”

“Wait—Newville?” Ruth lit up. “That’s near your school, right? The one you applied to?”

I nodded. “Yes. I got the job. They accepted me and given me a permanent post .”

I used to work at New York school but now I got the job there at Newville.

“That’s amazing!” Ruth exclaimed. “Does Alexander know?”

I shook my head. “No. He doesn’t even know I’m a teacher. He’s never asked.”

There was a silence between us. The kind that knew more than it said.

“When do you leave?” Jayson asked.

“By noon. Today.”

“Then we don’t have much time,” Ruth said, grabbing my hand with that fierce determination only she had. “Come on — we’re going shopping. You are not entering that estate looking like heartbreak. You’ll walk in looking like a goddamn queen.”

I tried to protest, but she was already pulling me out of my chair. Jayson rolled his eyes and followed with a fond sigh.

And for a little while, we laughed again.

We wandered through stores we used to haunt back in college, tried on clothes we couldn’t afford, and ate spicy noodles at our favorite street stall until our stomachs hurt. We teased each other, shared old stories, and, for a few hours, it felt like the world hadn’t tilted off its axis.

But time, as always, moved too fast.

When I returned to the penthouse suite, Alexander’s bodyguards were waiting — but they didn’t say a word this time. They only nodded once.

Savannah was pacing in the hallway like she’d been waiting for hours. When she saw me, she froze, her face tightening before she composed herself.

“Miss Gwen,” she said smoothly, her voice clipped and professional. “We’ll be leaving in fifteen minutes. Your belongings have already been transported to Blackmount Estate. Please gather your personal items.”

She didn’t wait for a reply before walking away.

I stood there for a moment, alone in the silence that followed. Gwen. Always Gwen.

And yet it was April who would walk through those gates.

******************

The car ride was long, winding through dense forests and quiet countryside. I kept the window open, letting the cold breeze bite at my skin, as if it might keep me grounded.

I tried to prepare myself — for what, I didn’t know.

A new house. A new place. A deeper cage.

But maybe… also a new version of me.

Blackmount Estate emerged like something out of an old gothic novel — sprawling hills, stone walls cloaked in ivy, and wrought-iron gates that groaned as they opened. The mansion stood tall and regal, its architecture more fortress than home. Dark windows stared like watchful eyes, reflecting the overcast sky.

We pulled into the circular driveway.

Savannah exited first, already in motion with two staff members waiting at the door. One held a tablet. The other held the keys.

I stepped out slowly. My flats crunched against the gravel. The air smelled like old wood, wet leaves, and secrets.

No one welcomed me. No one smiled.

Just a silent understanding that this was where I’d be kept.

“Your room is on the second floor. West wing,” Savannah said briskly. “There’s a keycard for private access. Your schedule will be emailed to you, including Mr. Black’s instructions. You’ll be expected to attend the estate dinner tomorrow evening.”

“Will he be here?” I asked before I could stop myself.

Savannah hesitated. Then: “Unlikely.”

She turned and left.

I stood there a moment longer, then finally entered.

The inside of Blackmount was colder than I expected. High ceilings. Antique chandeliers. Dark wood. Every step echoed like it didn’t belong.

My room was spacious but impersonal. A large canopy bed. Velvet curtains. No photographs. No sign of life.

My bags were already unpacked.

They’d laid out a dress for me — an elegant midnight blue gown — as if they were dressing a doll for display.

I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at nothing.

This wasn’t home.

It was a museum of power, stitched in shadows.

But if Alexander wanted a ghost of me here — he’d get something else entirely.

Not the girl he expected. Not the one who stayed silent.

Because April was tired of breaking.

*********

By the time I arrived at Blackmount Estate, dusk had already fallen.

The rain came not long after — soft at first, like a warning whispered across the rooftops, and then, as night swallowed the last traces of light, it turned relentless. A storm had settled over the countryside, cold and wild, drenching everything in gray and shadow.

Dinner was served in the main hall, a grand room built for a dozen, yet tonight it hosted only one.

Me.

I sat at the long mahogany table, candles flickering around silverware I didn’t touch. The food was beautifully plated, but I could barely swallow. Each tick of the old grandfather clock echoed like a reminder: I was alone here.

Mr. Buckle — a soft-spoken man in his fifties — lingered near the side with polite professionalism. Mrs. Stone, the elderly housekeeper, had excused herself early due to the storm worsening. Mr. Buckle returned to the servants' quarters in the outer building soon after.

And I was left in silence.

In this hollow house of strangers and ghosts.

Hours passed. I slipped into one of the estate's thick wool robes and curled up in the cold canopy bed, the fire in the grate having long faded. The wind howled outside, and rain lashed the windows like angry hands.

I closed my eyes and tried to drift off.

But then — a sound.

He’s here.

For a moment, warmth surged in my chest. Alexander. Maybe he came back. Maybe he—

I didn’t finish the thought. I just got up and tiptoed toward the door.

I used to watch my mother wait for my father at night — sitting in silence, refusing to sleep until she heard the gate creak and the front door close. I never understood that devotion.

Until now.

Some foolish part of me needed to see him. Even if he didn’t care.

The hallway was dark, the sconces flickering weakly. I walked barefoot down the stairs, every step echoing into the grand, silent foyer.

“Alexander?” I whispered, but no answer came.

Only the storm.

I waited. Nothing.

Disappointed and slightly embarrassed, I turned to go back up.

That’s when I heard it — another noise.

This time, from the kitchen.

And then everything went dark.

The lights snapped off. Power gone. A crack of thunder split the sky, and a flash of lightning lit the entire hallway like a photograph — then vanished into blackness again.

I froze, breath caught.

Something was wrong.

I walked toward the kitchen, one cautious step after another. The floorboards moaned under my weight. The storm roared behind the windows.

I turned the corner—

And saw a shadow move across the far wall.

Large. Unfamiliar. Fast.

Before I could scream, a hand clamped over my mouth. Another locked around my neck, shoving me backward into the wall with bone-jarring force.

I struggled, gasping for breath. The hand at my throat tightened.

“Did you really think you could get away from me?” a voice growled into my ear, rough and venomous. “Think your loving husband will save you now?”

I thrashed, my vision swimming with panic, tears blurring my sight.

“You really are helpless,” he hissed. “He’s out there with his little girlfriend, and here you are — alone. Forgotten.”

His grip tightened. I couldn’t breathe. My fingers clawed at his wrist.

“He doesn’t see you as his wife. Never did. Never will,” he spat.

Something in his voice — cold, calculated — brought tears to my eyes. Not just from fear.

From truth.

“If I kill you tonight, Gwen, no one will ask questions. No one will miss you. That’s what makes this game… so easy.”

He laughed.

The sound was inhuman — amused and hollow.

“Be careful, pet. I’m always watching.”

And just like that, he released me.

I collapsed to the cold marble floor, coughing, gasping, my throat burning.

The darkness swallowed him.

And it swallowed me too.

***********

I woke up on the kitchen floor at the middle of night, soaked in cold sweat, gasping for air. My throat burned. My head throbbed. Rain still poured outside, now steady and unforgiving. But the house… the house was deathly silent.

No signs of him.

No evidence of the attack.

Was it real? Or had I completely lost my mind?

I forced myself to stand, gripping the counter for balance.

My knees shook.

I stumbled upstairs, locked the door behind me, and collapsed against it. The shawl was still clutched in my hand like a lifeline. The bruises blooming on my neck proved it wasn’t a nightmare.

He was real.

And he was watching me.

I curled up on the floor, listening to the rain and the thunder. I wanted to cry. Scream. Call someone. Call Alexander.

But then I remembered.

He wasn’t here.

He hadn’t even called.

He was with her.

And I was alone — in his house — in his game.