Emilia
The morning sun filters into the grand hall, casting soft, golden light over the dark wood and ornate furnishings. I barely have a moment to breathe after the encounter with Damien last night, his words still echoing in my mind. But before I can process it all, there's a stir among the household staff—a new guest has arrived. I'm surprised to see a man, tall and impeccably dressed, striding through the front door as if he's entirely at ease in Damien's mansion.
The stranger carries himself with an air of casual confidence, his sharp gaze sweeping across the room until it settles on me. His eyes crinkle in a way that suggests he's amused, though there's an unsettling glint in them. I feel my cheeks flush under his scrutiny, though I can't exactly place why. His age is indeterminate—somewhere between Damien's and mine, I suppose—but there's something about him, a polished and calculated charm, that immediately sets me on edge.
"Ah," he says, striding over to me with a grin that seems a little too practiced, "you must be the new bride."
"Yes," I reply carefully, keeping my tone guarded. "I'm Emilia. And you are…?"
He doesn't answer right away, choosing instead to look me up and down as though he's sizing me up. Finally, he offers a slight bow. "I'm Adrian, an… old friend of Damien's." His gaze shifts, something unreadable flitting across his expression. "Though perhaps 'friend' is not quite the right word. We have history."
I tilt my head, feeling the beginnings of curiosity mingling with a strong sense of caution. "History?" I echo. "You must know each other quite well, then."
Adrian's smile widens, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Quite well, yes," he says, his voice carrying an edge that suggests there's more beneath the surface. "Damien and I go way back. He's a man of secrets, isn't he? Always has been."
There's a weight to his words, an invitation to ask more, but I hesitate, not sure if it's wise to pry. Still, his comment piques my curiosity—what exactly does this man know? And why has he come now?
"Is Damien expecting you?" I ask, glancing around as if he might appear any moment.
Adrian chuckles, a low, unsettling sound. "No. I thought I'd drop in unannounced." His eyes glitter as he adds, "I imagine he didn't tell you about… everything, did he?"
The question hangs in the air between us, loaded with insinuation. I shake my head slightly. "Damien doesn't share much," I admit, hoping to sound neutral, though I feel a pang of resentment at the truth of it. "But I don't need to know everything. I trust him."
"Trust him?" Adrian echoes, raising an eyebrow. "Interesting. You must be different from the others, then."
I blink, feeling a slight chill at his words. "The others?"
He doesn't respond directly, instead shifting his gaze to look around the mansion as though lost in thought. "Let's just say Damien's had his fair share of… connections, shall we? Yet here you are, married to him and still in the dark about so much."
I press my lips together, fighting the urge to press him for more. It's as if he's toying with me, dropping hints but never giving a clear answer.
As if sensing my impatience, Adrian leans in, lowering his voice so only I can hear. "I suppose you don't know about his… accident, either?" His tone is full of implication, making it sound as though it was anything but accidental.
"What are you saying?" I ask, barely able to keep my voice steady.
He smirks, folding his hands behind his back and pacing in a way that reminds me of a cat sizing up a mouse. "Oh, just that Damien's past is… colorful, shall we say? And you, my dear, well, let's just say you may be more than you realize."
"I don't understand," I murmur, feeling both defensive and intrigued.
"No, I don't suppose you would," he replies, feigning innocence. Then, almost as an afterthought, he adds, "You're the key to his revenge, Emilia. Whether you know it or not."
The words leave me speechless, a cold knot forming in my stomach. "Revenge?" I whisper, horrified and yet unable to hide the curiosity that burns through my fear. "Revenge against whom?"
Adrian just shrugs, his smile widening into something cruel, something dark. "Ah, but that's for Damien to tell you, isn't it? I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise." He pauses, looking over his shoulder as if sensing something, or someone, approaching. "You'll figure it out soon enough."
With that, he straightens, casting a glance toward the entryway. "Tell Damien I'll be around for a while," he says, his voice returning to its casual, polished tone. "I think this is going to be… quite an interesting visit."
He flashes me one last smile before turning on his heel and disappearing down the hallway, leaving me alone with a thousand questions and an ever-deepening sense of dread.
As his footsteps fade, I'm left reeling from his words. The key to Damien's revenge? I barely know him, barely understand his life before me, let alone how I might fit into whatever twisted plan he has. And yet, there was a certainty in Adrian's words, a chilling confidence that makes me believe he knows something I don't.
The house feels colder, heavier, as if the walls themselves are keeping secrets. The idea that Damien might be using me, that our marriage could be part of some plan beyond my control—it gnaws at me, leaving me questioning everything. I glance around, feeling watched, the silence pressing in on me with suffocating weight.
As I turn to head back toward my room, my heart pounds with the suspicion that my life here is far more dangerous than I ever could have imagined.