The silence in the mansion was almost unbearable as the night stretched on. The weight of the recent argument still hung thick in the air. Brenda had just returned with Morgan after Judy had already put Lucia to bed. She could feel the tension hanging in the hall, an unseen force that made even the most mundane tasks seem monumental.
Brenda's mind was clouded with thoughts of the previous events. Mr. Sterling had called earlier, instructing them to take Mrs. Sterling's friends—Mattias and Celine—back to their homes. That had been unexpected. According to earlier plans, they were supposed to take them to a warehouse, but Mr. Sterling had made a snap decision.
Mattias and Celine better thank their stars, Brenda thought bitterly. She couldn't understand why the two people had been allowed to remain safe despite everything that had happened, while her attention was being pulled in a hundred different directions.
Her steps were heavy as she climbed the staircase, a vague sense of dread lingering in her chest. She reached Lucia's room and paused for a moment, pushing down the urge to open the door. She knew what she'd find.
Sure enough, when she cracked the door open, she was greeted by a sight that made her heart break into pieces. Lucia laid in the middle of her bed, her eyes puffy and red from crying. The strength Mrs. Sterling had always shown, the dignity she carried, was shattered. Lucia's shoulders trembled as she wiped away the remnants of her tears.
Brenda stepped inside quietly, her heart aching for the woman who was caught in the crossfire of this family's turmoil. She couldn't help but think of how strong Mrs. Sterling had been throughout the years, and yet, now, she seemed like a woman on the edge, close to breaking.
"Lucia," Brenda said softly, her voice trembling with empathy.
Lucia looked up, but she didn't speak. There was nothing left to say. Her mind was still reeling from the events of the evening, the rawness of the fight still fresh in her memory.
Brenda's heart broke seeing Lucia like this, the defiance from earlier replaced by exhaustion and sorrow. She wanted to comfort her, to say something that would make it all better, but she knew there was nothing she could do.
"She's strong," Brenda whispered under her breath as she left the room. "But not strong enough for this."
She had seen it before. The unspoken rule of the Sterling family—no one ever escaped. Whether it was a lover, a friend, or a family member, all were drawn into the web. And now Lucia, with her innocence and defiance, was tangled in the same web, unable to break free.
---
While the household tried to catch some sleep, two people couldn't. Two restless souls, bound by fate and an unspoken tension, were trapped in their own minds: Malcolm and Lucia.
Lucia lay in the darkness of her bed, feeling the weight of her thoughts pressing on her chest. The silence of the mansion only amplified her inner turmoil. She heard the faint sound of footsteps outside her door, Brenda coming to check on her, but Lucia didn't have the strength to acknowledge her presence. Her body ached, her mind was exhausted, but the thought of Malcolm, of the rules he'd given her, kept her awake.
The rules were unreasonable, she thought bitterly, tears streaming down her face. I don't love him, for Christ's sake. And I'm not an actress. I'm not pretending for him. How could he expect me to do all this?
Her heart ached for the freedom she was losing. They were supposed to be getting a divorce in six months, but with every passing day, it felt as though she was being suffocated by his expectations. Why couldn't he just let her be free?
Her mind spiraled deeper, wondering why Malcolm was doing this to her. Why can't he just leave me alone? She cried harder, the weight of everything becoming too much to bear.
Meanwhile, Malcolm was far from peaceful. He sat in his study, papers scattered across the desk, but his mind wasn't on the work in front of him. It kept returning to Lucia—her defiance, her rejection of everything he'd wanted for her.
He could hear her voice in his mind, her sharp tone cutting through the silence. I don't love you. The words echoed like a curse, gnawing at his insides.
But why was he so fixated on her? Why was he trying so desperately to make her bend to his will? It didn't make sense. He didn't love her. He loved Stephanie, didn't he? So why this obsession with controlling Lucia?
Malcolm's mind drifted back to that night months ago when he'd first seen her. He could still picture her at the dinner in Kensington—confident, alluring, impossible to ignore. He had watched her from across the room, and in that moment, she had captivated him. It wasn't just her beauty; it was the power she exuded, her boldness, her refusal to be anything other than herself.
He exhaled slowly, running his fingers through his hair. She's my wife, he reminded himself, for six more months.
But that didn't feel like enough. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something about Lucia, something dangerous and intoxicating that called to him.
---
The next morning, Malcolm was already at the breakfast table, his usual steely expression fixed in place as he waited for Lucia. He sat in silence, his eyes cold, though there was something about his posture that suggested impatience.
As the sound of footsteps echoed through the hall, he looked up, prepared for the usual encounter. But when Lucia appeared, dressed in a silk gown that barely covered her, his eyes narrowed.
She came down the stairs slowly, her every movement deliberate, as if challenging him. The gown clung to her body, its hem stopping just above her thighs, and the black lingerie beneath it was clearly visible.
Malcolm couldn't suppress the growl that rose in his throat. Why would she come down dressed like that? His frustration mounted as he watched her approach the table with the same indifference she always displayed.
Lucia, he thought darkly, you're a temptress.
She ignored him completely as she sat down, pouring herself a glass of juice, her gaze deliberately averted from his. Malcolm clenched his jaw, his annoyance simmering just below the surface. She hadn't even greeted him, hadn't even acknowledged him as her husband. It was as though she didn't care about anything, about him, or the rules he had set down.
---
After breakfast, the two women—Brenda and Judy—came to take Lucia to Malcolm's room.
Lucia felt the weight of the moment press down on her. His room, she thought, her heart racing. She had remembered the rules he had given her, each one designed to control her. And yet, here she was, being led to his room like a lamb to slaughter.
Her thoughts were a jumble of resentment and confusion, but she followed Brenda and Judy without protest. The house seemed eerily quiet, the tension palpable as they climbed the stairs.
When they reached his door, Brenda stopped and gestured for Lucia to enter. Lucia hesitated for a moment, her breath catching in her throat, before she stepped into the room.
Malcolm was standing by the window, his back to her. As soon as she entered, he turned, and his eyes locked onto her. They seemed to devour her, his gaze sliding over her body in a way that made her skin crawl.
Lucia tried to steel herself, but the heat in his eyes made her feel exposed, vulnerable. She shifted uncomfortably, acutely aware of the skimpy dress she wore.
Malcolm didn't speak for a moment, simply taking in her presence as though she were a puzzle he couldn't quite solve.
"Good," he said at last, his voice cold but with a touch of something else beneath it. "You're here."
Lucia's heart hammered in her chest. She didn't know what to expect next, but she was certain it wouldn't be good.