Betrayed By Blood, Bound By Love

Chapter 4

Built for grandeur and beauty, the mansion felt like a cavern, yet it lacked the cosiness that made a home feel like a refuge. The gentle, harsh brightness of the chandelier overhead illuminated everything. Daphne stood by the fireplace, trying to catch her breath while idly running her fingertips over the stone mantle. Her chest felt the pressure of the darkness. There was a physical, oppressive quiet between her and Elliot.

They were newlyweds. That fact still seemed strange, like an unfitting clothing. Elliot in particular felt out of place. Like a chilly wall that seemed to rise higher the longer they were together, his emotional detachment radiated from him.

Daphne glimpsed him across the room, his silhouette framed in his office doorway. With his back to her, he was bent over, writing something on a piece of paper with his big shoulders rigid. As significant a barrier as the actual distance between them was the posture. She felt even more alienated by the gleam of polished silver on the table and the plush, leather-bound chairs in the room that seemed to be part of a show and not designed to be utilised.

His jaw was sharp enough to cut glass, and Elliot's outfit fit him flawlessly, but that didn't matter right now. His coldness, her mounting bitterness, and the unspoken reality that neither of them understood how to behave in this strange new life they had been thrown into became the invisible bricks that made up the wall separating them.

Daphne's question broke the silence, "Do you ever sleep?" Even though she didn't mean to come across as accusatory, it did.

He didn't look back. The sound of his pen scratching on the paper seemed annoying against the silence. "I do," he responded in a hurried, low voice. "Just not this evening."

With her shoes tapping quietly on the marble floor, she approached him cautiously and pressed, "Because of the business?"

His shoulders tensed, but he avoided giving her a direct look. "For a variety of reasons."

Trying to sense the tension in his body, she stood with her arms crossed in the doorway. "I'm right here if you want to talk about it."

At last, he turned, his piercing eyes striking her with such intensity that she gasped. "And if I choose not to discuss it?" Despite their coldness, his remarks had a raw quality that was concealed by the frost.

Daphne's thoughts were racing as she gulped. She continued, "Then I'll leave you alone," but her voice trailed off as she thought about the seriousness of what she was saying. Her fingers curled around the doorframe. “But, Elliot, you're not by yourself. No more.”

Something flickered across his face, perhaps annoyance, fury, or simply tiredness. She briefly saw it before it vanished, before she could give it a name. He moved slowly and deliberately as he made his way to the bar and poured himself a drink of whiskey.

"I didn't marry you for this," he said in a low, nearly whispery voice. "I'm not into feelings."

His gaze never left hers as he raised the glass to his lips. As their tension increased, Daphne experienced something for the first time: was it sympathy? Or pity?, but the harsh reality of their predicament swiftly obliterated it.

Then, in an unintended outburst of irritation, she said, "Then why marry me at all?" "Elliot, what do you want from me?"

He didn't respond. His lips were squeezed into a narrow line as he stared at her. They both waited for something to change in the agonizingly long silence.

However, nothing did. Daphne stood there feeling alienated in a home that had become her prison as he turned away and went into the corridor.

Except for the odd clink of glass as Elliot sipped in the other room and the gentle hum of the city outside, the home was once more quiet. Daphne had withdrawn to the living room and settled herself on the soft sofa, but the opulence of the room did little to calm her.

Even though she didn't want to, the consequences of her choice to wed Elliot kept getting to her. To him, the agreement and the contract were merely commercial terms. But they were everything to her. Was this marriage a betrayal? Was the question that plagued her. Was she giving up her soul to save her mother?

Elliot's flat, aloof voice was still audible to her. "I didn’t marry you for this."

The words tormented her. However, she was unable to stop herself. It felt too genuine, so she didn't want to. The whole thing felt too unfiltered. Did he view her as only a tool? Was this the only thing available?

In the adjacent room, she heard the muffled sound of a phone call. Elliot's voice was strained and urgent, unlike anything she had ever heard. Despite her hesitation, Daphne's curiosity won out. She got up carefully, walked across the room, and walked on tiptoe to the hallway. His office door was open, and she could hear his piercing, low voice.

"Damn it," he growled into the phone, his voice breaking with rage and his words clipped. "This ought to have been completed weeks ago. How on earth were they able to overlook this? No, please give me those numbers right away. I promise that if I don't have them by tomorrow, I'll_”

After a little pause and a gentle click, there was yet more quiet.

Daphne's heart thumped in her chest as she froze. She was aware that she should not listen. However, she was powerless to stop herself. She felt as though a big hand was pressing down on her from the circumstances, her marriage, her mother's illness, and Elliot's coldness.

She moved closer, but she couldn't hear the voice on the other end of the line. Her breath was shallow as she struggled, and then the door behind her creaked. Startled, she turned around.

Elliot was the one. His eyes were dark and shrewd as he stood there. Like a tense wire, the moment between them dangled in midair, poised to break.

He said, "You shouldn't be eavesdropping," in a voice that was a mix of caution and something she couldn't quite identify. Like a man caught in his trap, there was a noticeable strain in his stance.

With her heart pounding, Daphne answered, "I wasn't eavesdropping." "I wanted to understand."

He glanced at her with an enigmatic face as his jaw tensed. Neither of them moved for a second. The city outside seemed to be drowned out by the hush between them. Daphne felt as though the weight of everything would soon crush her, and the pressure was intolerable.

There was a glimmer of something else there, but his voice was frigid as he inquired, "Understand what?" Perhaps something human.

Before she could stop herself, she said the words in a whisper, "You." "Elliot, I want to understand you."

As the rest of the day's light faded into the night, the room was suddenly engulfed in shadows. Unspoken words and feelings filled the air, and neither of them dared to recognise them. The gap between them felt to Daphne like a chasm, too deep and too wide to traverse.

However, she was unable to stop herself. She must have known.

Her voice was hardly more than a whisper as she moved closer. "You are not who you seem to be, are you?"

Elliot's eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced in her direction. His façade was crumbling. She saw the weight of the world on his shoulders for the first time. He was more than just an entrepreneur. He was more than simply a man who had coerced her into this union for illogical reasons. No, he had something to conceal.

His voice was even when he said, "I'm exactly who I seem to be," yet there was a strain in it. It was in the way he held onto the edge of his desk, as if he were being pushed to the brink by the weight of his empire and whatever else he was concealing.

Daring to put herself in their shoes, Daphne took a step forward. "Then, Elliot, tell me the truth. What's happening? What are you hiding?”

Something she was unable to describe flashed in his eyes. Fear? Feeling guilty? Whatever it was, it vanished before she could read it all the way through, leaving behind only the icy surface she had grown accustomed to.

With a deep growl, he declared, "This is between us now." "Don’t make it personal."

Daphne, however, wasn't prepared to let go.