Chapter three
1139 Words
Chapter 3: Life With Bain
Cassie woke up every morning in a bed that was too big, too soft, and too cold.
Alone
Bain was never there. She was grateful for it. She slept before he came to bed and by the time
she woke up in the morning, he was gone. His sandalwood scent and rumpled bedside was
proof that he had lain there. But every time she stepped into the dining hall, there he was, with a
newspaper in his hand, almost as if he was waiting for her before he had breakfast.
She was still at loss as to why they had to stay in the same room. They could pretend to be the
perfect couple to outsiders, but why did they have to stay in the same room?
It had been weeks since the wedding, and she was still adjusting to her new reality.
Bain had laid down rules from the day of the wedding. He had strictly reminded her of her place
in his world; his wife in name only, and his possession in every other sense of the word.
Her existence had given "trophy wife" a new meaning, a perfect face for the public and a slave
indoors, eitherways a symbol of power.
Bain was hardly ever around, but she saw him in the mornings at breakfast, every day. It was
like a ritual now. They would sit across from each other at the long dining table, with a desert of
cold mahogany between them. The air was always filled with the scent of freshly brewed coffee,
and the sound of silver clinking against porcelain.
Her once voracious appetite was non-existent. She could only nibble on her food, and she was
losing weight fast. Bain, on the other hand, would eat with the precision of a man who controlled
every aspect of his life, even his chewing.
Sometimes, she would catch him glancing at her, but his expression never gave anything away.
It pissed her. How could one be so emotional, yet controlled?
But there were some rare moments, where he let his guard slip just a bit. Like the time he nicely
asked if she was comfortable in her room; his voice was softer. Or the time he tucked a loose
strand of hair back into her bun; his grip was gentle, lingering for just a second too long.
Cathie had to admit, Bain was a complicated man. More complicated than she wanted him to
be.
It would have been easier if he were just a monster. Her hate and anger would be totally
justified, but he wasn't. If anything, he treated people kindly, and his employees respected him;
not out of fear, but loyalty.
He knew all their names. In her lone, tour round the mansion, she had counted at least 26
people, and he knew all their names, including the cleaning staff.
He also asked about their health, welfare and family, he offered help and solutions where
needed. Like Mr. Thomas the butler's right knee pain, or Mrs. Persephone's blind son's health,
or was it the Dungee's children's education?
She was by his side one day when he offered his condolences to the gardener on his wife's
death. He gave him a long leave from work and offered to cover all burial costs, no strings
attached. The gardener's eyes filled with gratitude, and Bain just gave him a nod before walking
away, his face as stoic as ever.
Those moments confused her the most. How could he be so heartless and cold to her, yet so
kind to others? Had she ever wronged him before? No. She didn't even know the man. She had
never even met him prior to the charity ball.
It must have been from a past life. Fate must be playing a cruel game here.
Life in the Bain Blackwoods Mansion was like living in a beautiful cage. The mansion could rival
any prison. Security was airtight, bain made sure of that. Guards were stationed at every
entrance, cameras monitored every hallway and passwords were required to access every
single room. On another lone tour round the mansion, she came across Bain's office and tried to
sneak in, but a calm, robotic voice demanded for a password that she didn't have. Brian never
said anything, but she was sure he knew, because he stared at her longer than usual the next
day at breakfast with a smirk on his lips.
There were moments she thought of escaping, but the humiliation of her five failed attempts was
still fresh and she decided to give it a rest. Each one ended the same way, with her being
bundled back to the mansion by Bain's guards. He never punished her or raised his voice, but
his cold, disappointed gaze was worse. He made her feel like nothing more than a petulant child
throwing a tantrum.
Kathy couldn't stop herself from observing Bain. He was a mystery she wanted to solve, even if
she hated herself for it. She knew she had to know and understand him to either find peace in
her new prison, or escape it. She understood from her glimpses of him walking that he
commanded respect effortlessly. His posture was almost always rigid, and his face had intense
expression.
But it was other moments that left her questioning everything. Like the time she found him
standing in the garden in front of a bed of yellow hibiscus; her favorite, with a soft look across
his face and a haunted look in his eyes. She truly wondered what could possibly haunt a man
like Bain Blackwood.
Despite all this, one thing was clear. She hated him.
She hated him for buying her, for imprisoning her, for taking away her freedom, for marrying her,
for separating her from everything she knew. She couldn't deny the way her heart would stop
her when she caught him staring at her. But she convinced herself it must have been curiosity
mixed with fear. She couldn't possibly be attracted to him. That would be madness. He was her
captor, her husband, her enemy.
She felt fear too, fear of what she was feeling. Fear of the man she shared a bed with. Fear of
Ryder and Elijah. Fear of her future.
Cassie stilled herself, forcing the turbulence of emotions away. She couldn't afford to be weak.
Not here. Not now.
She was a prisoner. Nothing more. If she was to change it, she had to know her enemy. She
had to find his weak spot. Bain Blackwood was the enemy. No matter how human he seemed.
She had to find his weak spot. No matter how much her heart betrayed her. She was Cassoupia
Thompson. She would survive. Even if it meant hurting her heart and keeping her distance, she
must survive.
- Writer
