Next morning,
The first rays of the morning sun stung Elara Ross's eyes. For a fleeting second, she felt as if she were back in her old home, safe and sound. But as she shifted, her hand brushed against the cold, heavy velvet of the duvet—a luxury her father's house had long lost. Opening her eyes, she was greeted by the oppressive elegance of Silas Vane's bedroom. The walls were a stark charcoal grey, and the furniture was carved from black oak—a reflection of Silas himself: cold, dark, and impenetrable.
Silas was nowhere to be seen. He had likely departed at dawn for some shadowy business transaction.
Suddenly, a firm, rhythmic knock echoed through the room.
"Miss... I mean, Mrs. Vane? Are you awake?"
Elara opened the door to find a woman standing there in a crisp, severe uniform. Her face was a mask of professional indifference, devoid of even a trace of a smile.
"I am Mrs. Halloway, the head housekeeper," she announced in a flat tone.
"Mr. Silas has instructed that you be at the breakfast table at exactly nine o'clock. In Vane Mansion, punctuality is paramount. And remember, no one enters this room except you and Mr. Silas. I shall only announce myself from outside."
Elara simply nodded. She was beginning to realize that this mansion was less of a home and more of a gilded cage, where every breath was governed by a rule.
Shadows at the Table
As Elara entered the vast dining hall, the silence felt heavy. The table was grand enough to seat twenty, but only two young men were present. They fell silent the moment she walked in.
"So... this is our new sister-in-law?" a light, mischievous voice drawled.
That was Jax Vane. He was lounging back in his chair, tossing an apple in one hand. His hair was slightly dishevelled, and there was a glint in his eyes that made Elara instantly uncomfortable.
"Jax, watch your tongue," a deep, stern voice barked. This was Dante Vane. He shared Silas's sharp features but carried a more visible, volatile temper. He looked at Elara with piercing eyes. "I am Dante, Silas's elder brother. And this brat is Jax."
Elara pulled out a chair and sat down with as much grace as she could muster. "Elara Ross."
"We know exactly who you are, Elara," Jax said, taking a loud bite of the apple. "The last remnant of the Ross legacy. Silas took a huge risk bringing you here. Our enemy's daughter, sitting at our breakfast table... how poetic."
Dante glared at Jax before turning back to Elara. "If you intend to stay in this house, remember one thing: even the walls have ears here. Silas married you, but that doesn't mean you've stopped being our enemy"
The sound of heavy, rhythmic footsteps silenced the room. Silas entered, his suit tailored to perfection, looking as if he were ready for war. He took the seat next to Elara, and an immediate, suffocating pressure filled the hall.
"I see you've met my brothers," Silas remarked dryly, without even glancing at her.
"Your brothers still consider me an enemy, Silas," Elara said, her voice steadier than she felt.
Silas took a slow sip of his black coffee before finally turning his head to look at her.
"You are an enemy. But from today, you will be known to the world as my wife."
He slid a black envelope across the table. "There is a grand reception tonight. I want the world—and especially my rivals—to see that you belong to me now. Be ready, Elara. After tonight, every bridge back to your old life will be burnt."
Jax let out a low whistle. "A reception? That means every 'devil' in this city will be under one roof tonight. Elara, I hope your heart is made of steel."
Elara met Silas's gaze. She knew this party wasn't just a celebration; it was a display of power. He wanted to parade her like a trophy, ensuring that her father, Julian Ross, would be stripped of his final shred of dignity.
But Elara made a silent vow of her own. If Silas was dragging her into his world, she would use the opportunity. She would see his allies, identify his weaknesses, and find the crack in his armor.
...