Chapter 3: Mrs. Blackwell's Burden
1192 Words
Chapter 3: Mrs. Blackwell's Burden
The first thing Lyra noticed when she woke up was the silence.
Not the peaceful kind.
The lonely kind.
The kind that settled deep into your bones and reminded you that you didn't belong, she stared at the unfamiliar ceiling above her.
For a few seconds, confusion clouded her mind. Then reality came rushing back.
The wedding.
The contract.
Axton.
Blackwell Manor.
A knot tightened in her stomach, she sat up slowly, the oversized bed creaking beneath her. The room was beautiful, bigger than her family's entire apartment. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked perfectly manicured gardens, and expensive furniture filled every corner.
It looked like something from a magazine.
Yet it didn't feel like home, it felt like a gilded cage.
The wedding ring on her finger caught the morning sunlight.
A painful reminder that none of this was temporary.
She was really here.
Really married.
Really trapped.
For a moment, she allowed herself to miss her old life.
The tiny apartment, the chipped kitchen table, her younger sister's laughter, even the constant worry about bills.
Because at least there, she had been free.
A knock interrupted her thoughts.
Before she could answer, the door opened.
A woman in her late fifties stepped inside carrying a tray, she wore a neat black uniform and a warm smile.
"Good morning, Mrs. Blackwell." The title felt strange, almost wrong.
Lyra forced a smile. "Good morning."
The woman set the tray on a nearby table.
"My name is Mrs. Avery. I've managed this household for nearly twenty years."
Lyra immediately liked her.
There was kindness in her eyes, genuine kindness.
Something Lyra hadn't encountered much recently. "Thank you."
Mrs. Avery studied her carefully.
Not in the judgmental way everyone else seemed to, more like she was worried.
"You should eat something."
Lyra glanced at the untouched breakfast. "I'm not very hungry."
Mrs. Avery sighed.
"That seems to be a habit in this house."
Despite herself, Lyra smiled.
A small one.
But real.
Mrs. Avery appeared pleased.
"Mr. Blackwell is already downstairs."
Of course he was.
Axton probably started running billion-dollar companies before sunrise, the thought almost made her laugh.
Almost.
"Breakfast is served in the dining room whenever you're ready."
After Mrs. Avery left, Lyra dressed carefully.
Nothing too formal, nothing too casual
She still wasn't sure what role she was supposed to play here.
Wife?
Prisoner?
Public decoration?
By the time she made her way downstairs, her nerves were in full force.
The dining room was enormous.
Long enough to host twenty guests comfortably.
Crystal chandeliers hung above a polished dining table.
At one end sat Axton. A tablet rested beside his coffee, three men in suits sat across from him.
Business meeting? At breakfast?
Of course.
None of them looked up when she entered.
Axton included.
For a brief moment, Lyra stood awkwardly near the doorway.
Waiting.
Hoping for some acknowledgment.
Nothing came.
Axton continued speaking.
"The Singapore acquisition moves forward next quarter."
One of the executives nodded.
Another handed over documents.
Axton signed them without even glancing her way.
As if she didn't exist.
As if she wasn't sitting ten feet away.
The rejection stung more than she cared to admit.
She quietly took a seat near the opposite end of the table.
A servant poured coffee.
Another placed food before her.
Still no acknowledgement from Axton.
Not a greeting, not a glance, nothing.
Eventually she gave up trying.
Maybe this was easier.
Pretending she didn't care, pretending his indifference didn't hurt.
The meeting continued for nearly forty minutes.
Financial projections, investments, company expansions.
Every person at the table treated Axton with absolute respect.
Even fear.
The man commanded every room he entered.
She remembered when his confidence used to inspire her.
Now it intimidated her.
When the meeting finally ended, the executives gathered their documents and left.
Relief washed through her.
At least breakfast could finally be normal.
Then she heard voices drifting from the hallway.
Two employees, they clearly didn't realize she could hear them.
"Can you believe she's actually living here now?" The first voice sounded shocked.
The second scoffed. "After what she did? I wouldn't have let her within a mile of this house."
Lyra froze.
Her coffee suddenly tasted bitter.
"You think Mr. Blackwell married her for revenge?"
"What else? Everyone knows she betrayed him."
A painful lump formed in Lyra's throat.
The voices continued. "I heard she sold confidential information."
"No, I heard she cheated on him."
"My cousin worked for Blackwell Enterprises back then. She said Mr. Blackwell nearly lost everything because of her."
The words struck one after another.
Like stones.
Like bullets.
Like wounds she never had the chance to defend.
Lyra lowered her eyes.
Five years later.
And everyone still believed the same story.
No one cared what really happened, no one cared that she had tried explaining.
No one cared that the truth was far more complicated.
To the world, she was the villain.
The woman who betrayed Axton Blackwell.
The woman who broke his heart.
The woman who nearly ruined him.
A sudden movement drew her attention.
Axton was watching her.
His expression remained unreadable.
Had he heard them too?
Of course he had.
The hallway wasn't far.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Axton stood.
The tension immediately returned.
He crossed the room with the same controlled confidence that always made people step aside.
Including her.
He stopped beside her chair.
A folder landed on the table.
Lyra stared at it.
"What is this?"
"Your schedule."
She looked up.
His face revealed nothing.
"Schedule?"
Axton's jaw tightened slightly.
"As my wife, you'll have responsibilities."
The word wife sounded more like an obligation than a relationship.
Lyra opened the folder.
Her eyes widened.
Meetings, charity appearances, fundraisers, interviews, social events.
The schedule was packed.
Every day, every week, every month.
It looked exhausting.
"This is serious?"
Axton gave her a look.
"What part of this arrangement made you think it wasn't?"
Lyra closed the folder slowly.
The old hurt from the employees' conversation still lingered.
"Right."
Something flashed across his eyes.
Gone before she could identify it.
Then his expression hardened again.
The familiar mask returning.
"You wanted to be Mrs. Blackwell."
His voice was cold enough to freeze the room.
"Start acting like it."
The words landed like a slap.
Before she could respond, he turned and walked away.
Just like that.
Leaving her alone once more.
Lyra stared down at the schedule in her hands.
A mixture of anger, humiliation, and exhaustion twisted inside her.
Then something caught her attention.
A highlighted section near the bottom.
Her breath caught.
Blackwell Foundation Annual Charity Gala.
Tonight.
Attendance mandatory.
More than five hundred guests, media coverage confirmed, Photos required, interviews expected.
Her stomach dropped.
Tonight would be her first public appearance as Mrs. Bl
ackwell.
Which meant hundreds of people would be watching.
Judging, Whispering.
Remembering the scandal.
And standing beside her would be the man who hated her most.
For the first time since arriving at Blackwell Manor, Lyra wondered if surviving Axton might be easier than surviving the world that believed she had destroyed him.
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