BENEATH THE MASK OF COLDNESS
1225 Words
Elena stared blankly at the untouched breakfast tray on the marble table in front of her. The toast had gone cold, the eggs congealed, and the tea had long lost its warmth. She had barely moved since the butler delivered it an hour ago. Her silk robe, loosely tied around her body, felt more like a barrier than comfort—trapping her in the unfamiliar life she had unwillingly stepped into.
The grand mansion, though beautiful, was silent. Almost eerily so. A reminder that while her surname had changed, her reality hadn't caught up. She was still a stranger in her own marriage.
The events of the past few days replayed in her mind like an unwanted movie: the forced ceremony, Jace’s cold stares, his mother’s judgmental eyes, and the constant reminder that she wasn’t supposed to be here. That someone else—her sister—had been the intended bride.
And now she was paying the price for a mistake she hadn’t made.
Just as Elena got up to stretch, the door creaked open. Her heart skipped. Instinctively, she tugged her robe tighter.
It was Jace.
As usual, he was dressed sharply in a tailored black suit, his presence commanding and cold. His eyes scanned the room, lingering only briefly on her.
“You didn’t eat,” he said, his voice flat.
“I wasn’t hungry,” Elena replied softly, avoiding his gaze.
He walked over to the window and drew the curtains wider, letting in more morning light.
“I hope you understand what’s at stake here,” he said. “I need you to at least pretend to be invested in this marriage, especially in front of my mother.”
Her chest tightened. “And when we’re alone?”
“We keep out of each other’s way.”
Her eyes finally met his. “So that’s it? I just exist in this house and pretend I’m your wife when it’s convenient?”
He turned slowly. “You agreed to this, Elena.”
“No,” she said, voice trembling. “I was cornered. I never had a choice.”
The tension between them thickened.
Jace stepped closer, his face unreadable. “You think I did? You think I wanted to marry a woman I barely know because her sister ran off? This wasn’t my plan either. But I have a business reputation to protect and a mother who believes family honor is everything.”
Her lips parted to respond, but no words came out.
He studied her for a moment longer before turning away.
“There’s a charity gala tonight,” he said. “You’re expected to be there. Dress appropriately. We leave at seven.”
He exited the room before she could ask another question.
---
The dress hung in the walk-in closet like a shimmering trap—a floor-length navy-blue gown with a plunging neckline and a slit that ran dangerously high. Elena had never worn anything so bold before. But it had been laid out for her by the staff, a silent instruction she couldn’t refuse.
She hesitated before slipping into it. The silky fabric hugged her curves, making her feel both exposed and powerful. She applied soft makeup, keeping it elegant, and pinned her hair into a low bun.
At exactly seven, Jace appeared at her door.
He looked at her—really looked, for once. His eyes briefly widened, a flicker of something passing through them before he masked it again.
“You look... presentable,” he said stiffly.
She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Thanks.”
They entered the waiting black car in silence. The ride to the gala was filled with unspoken words and occasional glances. Elena tried not to let the weight of everything crush her, but Jace’s presence—so cold and composed—only made it harder.
---
The gala was everything Elena imagined rich people would throw: glittering chandeliers, flowing champagne, paparazzi flashes, and endless small talk.
Everyone seemed to know Jace. They swarmed around him, offering greetings and smiles laced with hidden agendas. Elena tried to stay close, plastering on the best fake smile she could manage.
“This must be your lovely wife,” a woman in her fifties said, eyeing Elena from head to toe.
“Elena,” Jace said curtly. “My wife.”
The woman gave a tight smile. “Beautiful. But young. Very young.”
Jace’s jaw flexed. “We prefer not to talk about age.”
The woman raised an eyebrow but moved on.
Elena exhaled. “Is this how it’s always going to be?” she whispered.
“Only until things settle,” Jace replied without looking at her.
As they continued mingling, Elena noticed something strange. A few people seemed surprised to see her—not because of her beauty, but as though they knew someone else was supposed to be on Jace’s arm.
That confirmed it: the rumors were already out. People suspected—or even knew—that this marriage wasn’t as perfect as it looked.
Then came the final blow.
“Elena?” a male voice said behind her.
She turned, and her heart stopped.
“Daniel,” she breathed.
It was her ex. The man she had loved before everything went to hell. Before her family ruined her chances. Before her sister’s betrayal. He looked even more handsome than she remembered—tall, warm brown eyes, and a smile that used to make her heart melt.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, glancing between her and Jace.
“I—uh—” she stammered.
Jace stepped forward, wrapping a firm arm around her waist. “She’s with me. My wife.”
Daniel blinked, clearly confused. “Wife? You married Jace Hart?”
Elena opened her mouth, then shut it.
“Congratulations,” Daniel said awkwardly, before walking away with a tight smile.
The silence between her and Jace grew louder.
When they got back to the mansion, Elena finally exploded.
“You could’ve warned me! What if I wasn’t ready to face someone from my past?”
Jace removed his jacket calmly. “You’re my wife now. Your past doesn’t matter.”
She clenched her fists. “It does to me.”
He looked up. “Then maybe you should’ve thought about that before you let your sister disappear and left me no choice.”
Her face crumpled at the cruelty in his tone.
“I didn’t ask for this life,” she said, voice breaking.
He walked past her, his words a final blow: “None of us did.”
---
Elena sat alone in the bathroom later that night, her mascara smeared from silent tears. The gown pooled around her feet like the heavy burden it was.
She was breaking. And no one noticed.
Except maybe the maid who knocked gently an hour later with a cup of warm milk.
“Ma’am,” the girl whispered, “I brought this... I thought you might need it.”
Elena took it gratefully. “Thank you.”
The girl hesitated. “Sometimes... sometimes people fall in love by mistake too.”
She left before Elena could respond.
Elena clutched the cup tightly.
Maybe it wasn’t just a mistake.
Maybe it was fate—twisted and cruel—but fate nonetheless.
.
- Writer
